It was perfect, sitting across from
her, hazel eyes bright, focused
on a tiny cup of Devonshire
cream tea in an eggshell-fragile
room, silver fluttering like birdsong
against porcelain, fairy vases
of violets smiling back at us from
their Baby's Breath bowers her deft
fingers, used to small work, barely
able to grasp tea cup handles small
as mouse ears we laughed
self consciously, aware of
our self-aware self-awareness,
and complicit in our crimes against
the more civilized aspects of society
(c) 2013, by Hannah Six
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