In Brown’s Hotel we sipped our tea, all the Danson Poets
…and me.
This hotel, we did admire, on being told the valet of Byron
had a wheeze, over biscuits and cheese
to open an inn, where folks could drop in,
…for a fee.
We could never have phoned to book our table
if A. Graham Bell had not been able
to make his first phone call, I don’t know to whom
but he might have used this very same room
where all the Danson poets and me
were eating off Wedgewood and sipping our tea.

The ladies boudoir was furnished in style,
no modern dryers; rolled towels in a pile,
soft and scented to pamper and please,
everything there to put one at their ease,
and Marie reclined with her usual aplomb
completely at home on the French style chaise-longue…

Then again, Rudyard Kipling, creating Shere-Kahn,
dreamt of the jungle in the peace and the calm
of Brown’s Hotel while sipping his tea
…some of his dreams could rub off on me.

Soft chamber music cushioned the sound
of chattering voices as we tackled the mound
of sandwiches, scones and fancy gateaux and oh!
it was lovely, all this to share with friends and to think long ago…
just there…
Agatha Christie sipped her tea
like all the Danson poets
…and me. © Marion Sharville

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