The tea begins to bitter,
Spilling over the cups edge,
Staining the table cloth,
Eating up the marked up parchment,
Dissolving the sugar
And ink written words.
His tea cup clattered
Down on the table,
Shattering upon impact.
The laughter fades,
Silencing the once colorful scene
Now painted dark.
His fedora falls off,
Settling on the soiled cloth.
Tears begin to fall.
My Hatter is gone.
The glass of the world shatters,
Now lost as
Reality cracks and alters.
Death is real concept
That no one quite understands.

Back through the shattered world
After it was long discarded,
The reality altered
To something entirely different
Than the original.

Out of the puddles of tea,
Mold and mushrooms
Of every kind,
Grow and twist
At odd angles.
Flowers grew with bitter regret
Of never being finished
From the destroyed writings.
Their mouths filled with
Sharp snapping teeth,
Waiting to snip at anyone
Daring enough to pluck them.
Their petals,
Copying whatever happened
To the parchment on which
They grow upon,
Curling and wrinkling
Wherever the tea touched
The paper scribbled with
Ink written words.
From the shattered tea cup,
Sprouts a bouquet of
Now dying, dried out roses,
Shrouded in dust
From the years of standing still,
Yet a faded scent lingers
From a long forgotten world.

At the head of the table
Sat the Hatter in all his
Former glory.
His body altered,
A skeletal figure now sits
Where the round man
Once entertained.
His clothes
Are tattered and weather worn,
As if he never moved from the spot,
Waiting out the years
Until the next tea party
Session began.
The cuffs were frayed,
And moth eaten holes
Took over the pockets.
A permanent toothy grin
Decorates his face.
Empty eye sockets
Containing a deep dark abyss,
Stare out at the empty table.
He lifts a spidering cracked tea cup
From its saucer,
Up to his nonexistent lips.
The tea, having no way
Of being held in the bone structure
Filled with all sorts of uncovered holes,
Spills out all over
His tuxedo shirt,
Staining it much like
The table cloth of before.
Seeming not to care,
He sets the cup back on its saucer,
Returning it to the table.
He places his elbows on the table,
Positioned on either side of the little cup.
He interlaces his bone fingers together,
Letting them clack against another.
Peering over his hands,
With empty eye sockets
That held no bottom nor end,
At the newest arrival
Who is the liveliest of them all.

The liveliest of them all,
Was indeed the liveliest,
For she was alive, breathing,
Unlike the other inhabitants
Of this twisted world.

She dressed in all black,
A lace veil hiding her face.
The head of the table
Kept a steady gaze on her,
As if he recognized her.
She took the first seat
To the right of the head.
Moving the veil away,
Revealing her face,
Who she was.

He nodded to her
In due respect
She nodded in return.
He plucked one of the
Snapping flowers up,
None tried to attack.
Pulling a tea stained parchment over,
Placing the stem against it,
Writing.
Unable to form words anymore,
His teeth would only make
Clicks and clacks,
No lips,
No tongue,
No windpipe,
No way to speak,
Resulting to the written word
The two once shared.
He slid it over
To the girl
Who read the words
You're late
Written upon it.

She looked at him,
Not quite sure what to
Believe or say,
But she found the words to start:
"A world I never thought
I would see again,
One I was sure
Disappeared after your fall,
The one I have just now
Figured out that it has been open.
Not knowing
If I would be alone here
Or if someone would be waiting.
Not knowing if you would be here
Waiting for me.
But yet you posses the
Audacity to tell me
I'm late?
Let me ask you;
Where have you been
These past years?"

He looked at her,
The gaze in his sockets changing
From a deep emptiness to a
Sad understanding,
An apology.
Taking the paper from her hands
He writes again;
I have been waiting for
You.
All these years,
I have sat here,
Awaiting your return
In hopes of
One last tea party.

Her eyes widen,
She never knew.
"All these years?
All this time?
And you have been
In this shattered world,
One that altered
Itself beyond recognition,
Just waiting for my return?"
He nodded.
"What if I never did?"
I still would of waited.
She looked down
And gripped a tea cup
In front of her.
"There are so many questions,
So much I want to know.
All the time that passed
Has raised so many what ifs,
There is much to discuss.
But where to begin?"
She saw the fedora
Just sitting on the table.
The fedora he would always
Wear to their tea parties.
"First,"
Taking the fedora from the table,
Blowing off the dust
She then places it upon his head.
Then sits back down
In her chair.
"Now, we can begin
Where we left off."
She then lifts the cup
To her lips,
Taking a drink.
He raised his hand,
As if to stop her,
But it was too late.
She started the last tea party.
Finally they got to have their
Good bye.