Teas, Three Poems


Tea. Think

The Teas Tasted Bitter, it’d, Tasted Sweet;

Isn’t, Life So?

the Japanese art of making Green tea, photo from online…

Two Leaves, Sharing One Plant, Think

Think of, How the Fogs Rose in the Mountains

The Twisting, Turning, Winding, Wounded, Streams…

Tea. Steep

How Many Degrees of Love Would You Need,

To Be, Completely, Opened Up?

Boiling, You Must, Weather Through it

The Heat, Even If You Can No Longer Take it, You Still, Must

As the Leaves, Started Slowly, to Open Up, Leaf, by Leaf………

Tea. Dream

how the Chinese people would make the teas…

In the Valleys of the Hills, There Is, a Forbidden Place

As Tiny as Possible; a Place, for Her to Dream, Perhaps?

The Fogs There, Half Awake, or, Half, Asleep

Or, Between Waking & Dreams, Each and Every Night

Becoming, Her Dreams;

The Green Leaves, How Can You Manage to, Pluck it Away?

There’s that scent of not wanting to let go, that desire, of having things exactly the same for a bit longer, but, knowing that everything MUST change, you have NO other options, but to, let go, and move on………


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