At Tea

This is a simple piece that attempts to combat a darkness I believe poetry often harbors. There is joy, simple and tangible.

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At Tea

Do we need, again,
to speak of these things:
emptiness sharp enough
to hollow bones,
marrow oozing as syrup
from its tree,
loneliness spread
as shadows
over damp earth?

The kettle is singing
and we’ve enough honey
to sweeten
both your cup and mine.
For now, this is all
the warmth we need.

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7 thoughts on “At Tea

  1. Drollery would say that describes the way I am. We so seldom have time to just sit and talk uninterrupted with our adult son living with us, that when we DO have tea or (for him) coffee, I want to talk, talk, talk about important things. I hunger for that verbal communication. Sometimes he just wishes I’d shut up! o_O

    Liked by 1 person

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