Mad Hatter's Chaos

In the depths of wonder, a man sits alone, Amidst a whirlwind of cards, his spirit is thrown. With hat askew and curls aflame, he sips his tea, A moment's peace in madness, wild and free. The cards, like memories, swirl around his head, Each one a tale of love, of joy, of life unsaid. The teapot pours its warmth, a comforting refrain, As the world outside recedes, and he is lost in the strain. Of being the keeper of the tea, the guardian of the night, A master of the whimsy, where dreams take flight. In this room of wonder, he reigns supreme, A monarch of the surreal, where logic is but a dream. The cards, they whisper secrets, of a world untold, Where the rational is but a myth, and the fantastical is gold. And he, the mad hatter, sits at the center, a king, Pouring tea, and spinning tales, where imagination clings.