Let’s you and I sit down, two elderly sprites.
In the kitchenette drinking coffee.
Wherever you look – magical trophies:
A white coffee pot, blue plastic mugs,
A decorative board for bread.
And on the finger, a little ring with amber,
And the storm clouds of a newly constructed sky
Over this peopled wasteland.
This is the same Waste Land which T.S.Eliot spoke of ,when April,the cruellest month bred lilacs out of the dead land ,mixing memory and desire and stirring dull roots with spring rain.The two elderly spirits(spirits!) sit here drinking coffee amongst the magical trophies collected in their youth while storm clouds gather in a recently constructed sky.