Jo, 50 Points
Scant flakes scattered the skyline
and I felt guilt from not sharing
just one more cup of tea, with you
Boston’s Orange matching your hair,
its intricate spice matching you,
making the silence smile for us, like steeping
Those Jade-ite rituals together,
Scrabble in all kinds of weather,
made me into a poet, like Longfellow wrote it.
And know you it.