TEA AT THE RITZ

Wealth once glided through revolving doors,
rainbowing the walls with jewels.
Louis Quinze salons, mirror reflected,
still enhance the grandeur.

Ghosts of patrons, long gone, like their fashions
now skim the rose coloured carpets,
mingling with office girls
and their Mums.

This place of opulence and tradition,
gilt enriched, historically selective,
serves afternoon tea.

Silver tea-pots and pastry-decked cake stands
anchor the pale pink tablecloths
and tempt the new style guests
to one more bite.

Partaking of this luxury seems unreal,
a ‘one-off’ to be treasured
back home among normality
and tea bags.

Enter a couple, flashing diamonds,
youth painstakingly applied.
Wine colored velvet tails proudly escorts
evening dress and pearl tiara.
Heads turn.

Out of place in their own world,
oblivious of their neighbours drinking tea,
yet, elegantly at ease,
they make a statement…
clinging on.

Marion Sharville ©

About Marion Sharville

A website of Poems and Short stories
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