He brewed his tea in a blue china pot,
Poured it into a chipped white cup with
forget-me-nots on the handle,
and dropped in a dollop of honey and cream.
He sat by the window, cup in hand,
watching the first snowfall.
"I am," he sighed deeply,
"contented as a clam.
I am a most happy man."
- Ethel Pochocki