The Last Tea Party

A chaotic kaleidoscope of color ... signalling hope.
There is a withering change in the weather.
A party jacket worn, threads frayed and torn... now, beaten to a tether.
The tea cups are empty. The coffee cakes are gone.
A sigh settles upon the fallen leaves on the lawn.
The tea party is closing down.
The partygoers are heading back to town.
The Mad Hatter, who wears a frown, mourns the coming of the last tea party.

All chairs of the banquet are empty ... save one.
A shadow blankets the scene, brooding over all like the sun.
Sublime, melancholy but calm is the dormouse asleep in his palm.
Troubled dreams of a broken crown swim around an ebon head.
One undone by so much as a frown that took the Cheshire's stead.
A tablecloth covered in crumb. The fiction of a figure numb.
The March Hare, speechless, left remaining dumb.
And the tears that fill the teapot short and stout
rain upon a quivering smile in doubt.
The lid closes on what the day has done as revelers disperse like shadows without sun.
All is quiet ... save the lone, sad one
who whispers,
"The last of the tea parties, adventure and wisdom spun.
We may be mad indeed ... but we sure had fun."