For the Tea

The warmth you engulf me in.

The floral scents as they fill the air.

Boiling in the that pot made of tin

with your rising steam, such beauty and fair.


The heart rises up.

A whistle screeches through the room.

I then run to pour you in a cup.

You could even warm up a tomb.


But others can be just as warm as you.

What makes you so special?

Waiting as you brew

just sitting there, steaming in your kettle.


But the warmth you bring gives me such joy,

So now I shall sit back and enjoy.


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