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…
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………
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………