Tea with Mrs. Keeling

In the summer of forty-eight

Mrs. Keeling taught him how to pluck pears.

In her, honey-suckle covered yard

There were two large old trees.

The Keeling house had burned down years before.

She was a gracious, lonely southern, lady

Living in an apartment above a drug store,

That bore her name.

He plucked her pears as instructed.

She served them tea in her best china.

Nothing matched anymore, but

Humbly, did the best she could.

They sat in her, sun-drenched, kitchen

Sipped tea and shared perfectly ripened pears,

a divine day for white trash royalty.