What is the matter with Jane today?
she started to write, but she wandered away.
I heard her say as clear as can be
“I’m going to make a cup of tea.”
She went to the kitchen but didn’t return.
For hours I waited with growing concern,
and when she came out the kitchen was clear
of the usual clutter and every last smear.
It was sparkling and pristine and neat as a pin:
and yet it was filthy when she went in,
and now she is writing as fast as can be –
but there’s still no sign of that cup of tea.
©Jane Paterson Basil