a cup of tea
waits,
lingering
in the special quiet
of a morning sun,
inviting curls
of warmth
speak
to parched lips
growing silent,
steeped
in the mystery
of blue,
languid strokes
of December
upon cheeks
and the slow
passionate
darkening
of a cup of tea.
waits,
lingering
in the special quiet
of a morning sun,
inviting curls
of warmth
speak
to parched lips
growing silent,
steeped
in the mystery
of blue,
languid strokes
of December
upon cheeks
and the slow
passionate
darkening
of a cup of tea.
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