Euphrosene spun golden cloaks
in the dank safety of her grotto;
she grew mushrooms in neat rows.
When guests arrived, she set a kettle
in the hearth and laid out jam, biscuits.
If you liked your tea strong,
you had it strong; if you preferred weak,
you got weak, and she never thought
to sneer at someone's choice.
When people talked about the sun,
she nodded politely (and at great distance)
then changed the subject, shivering.
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