The tea is poured from empty air,
With whiskers twitching in despair!
The clock has struck a purple grin,
Let the nonsense now begin!
A rabbit in a ruff of lace,
With panic written on his face,
Drinks from a cup of floral bone,
While sitting on a velvet throne.
The Hatter grins a jagged tooth,
He’s quite forgotten every truth!
He offers cakes of dust and light,
To keep the morning out of sight.
Poor Alice sits in quiet dread,
While floating teapots soar o’erhead.
The sky is full of spinning gears,
And echoes of a thousand years!
The Cat is but a giant smile,
That stretches for a country mile.
He’s here and there and gone again,
The king of every madman’s pen!
So gulp the steam and eat the spoon,
Beneath the grinning, cosmic moon!
For once you’ve joined this tea-time host,
You’re nothing but a buttered ghost!
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 