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Tea On The Highway

A stop on the highway and an extra slice.

White or brown, you choose.

Sauce in a squeeze bottle, a strainer for the tea

and a dainty dish for it to rest.

This is it – tea on the road, how it should be.

There’s a man in boots calling hello

and his laugh spills across the room.

There’s talk of the weather; wet everywhere, it seems.

The dried herbs are floating in the vinaigrette,

twinkling specks to tease.

They all stop here: the families, Ma and Pa,

mum and the unmarried son; a parade of life

in Red Bands and brogues and sensible brown.

The waitress is quick and knows a thirsty traveller;

seen them all and waved them goodbye: they go

and she stays on to adjust her apron and her smile.

Everything all right?

Oh yes. Everything is fine.



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