High Tea Poem by Bjorn Visser

Once again he visits
We share a cup of tea
We talk about the blood he’s shed, before he drains me.
We chat about the small things
the death rate and the weather
The inconvenient truths
The un-informed treasures
The time ticks forth, a mother gives birth

He laughs at my puzzled expression
I sip and smile, stretch time to suit my needs
he stares at me, I know his thoughts
Its been tea time since forever.

He never left, nor had I.
Our conversation enchanted time
Thus stopping it, to hear even more
He kept my kettle filled, my breath extended
-the weather never changed.

Will my time ever come, I ask him as I sip
He smiles and waves, not yet goodbye.