Tea He set it up but then The others moved in, Stronger, more ruthless, Picking and choosing Amongst his ideals As though they were Oranges in a bin - Finally dumping them Entirely when pretense Was no longer required. I met him in New York City Two years before his death. He was already pale And wraith-like As though his life Had been sucked out Leaving him weak And breathless. He spoke Of the Baath and all His good intentions. I made him tea and listened.