A poem by Beverly Marica

Rain beating on the trailer roof - months since the sun;

In raincoats, looking for dry wood in a waterlogged stack - getting smaller by the day.

Rug-rats napping; mid-afternoon after a reading of Tin Tin, piled high in bunk beds.

You heat water for tea; China cups, chipped for added character.

We talked for years of travels, loves, lives & dreams as the rain continued.

"Keep the pinkie extended," you said.

"Never know when you will be invited to Buckingham Palace for tea with the Queen."

Many travels, many loves, many lives, many dreams, many years passed.

With my pinkie extended, I held a cup to your lips for you to sip slowly.

We laughed about our eternal friendship & love, vowing not to let the abscence of flesh dim the strength of our connected souls.

At my last tea with the Queen.