Slender fingers reach
To touch the brim of such a lovely hat
Until all fades into demented laughter
And the sharp whistle of the teapot
Hovering, lingering
Somewhere in the distance
Moving with such a grace
To pick up one of so many teacups
By the refined porcelain handle
You do not pause to waste a single moment
To enjoy riddles with good company
With your beloved, the March Hare
All fades away
And Wonderland comes to a close