A Cup of Tea

That your sounds should be so sharp

And yet so tenderly accepted

More a falcon's cry than harp

With taught pulled strings directed

By the hands with years behind them

From which are lovely melodies tempted


And yet upon you is the sense

Of a sluggish urgency

A moment's labor recompense

For moments quick to flee

What hopes to pin upon you now

With a simple cup of tea


Whistle yes but in name only

The shrieks you yet let fly

Twin cups are better than lonely

With a third standing idly by

In some funny ritual performed

On halfway laughing sigh


A cure for anything that ails

The wives' tale universal cure

When told of one's impending pales

The only constant question sure

To action at once faithfully

Then you would at once spur


Yes, your cry cuts straight to core

But I wouldn't wish it gone

It's the mark of being cared for

Of being nearly doted on

Like the breaking of the light

So sharply in the too-soon dawn


A moment's labor recompense

For moments quick to flee

What hopes to pin upon you now

With a simple cup of tea


This is actually a preview of the poetry collection I'm working on, to be released by the end of the year!

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