Tea

If it has not been known, let it be written

With the same ferocious frivolity as a hungry kitten,

Than in my bedroom, with the rain singing outside

And the morning inching closer to its time

While others are craving the strength of a different roast

A culture that has grown both in strength and boast;

There is a magic found in my cup, the start I need

The simple combination of milk and my tea.

It swirls, curls, and dances to a soft silky beat,

Whether I'm reading or cleaning or just because its lovely.