deepundergroundpoetry.com

tea

 you made the tea
brought it to me on moonlit verhandah
my arthritic hands
could barely lift the cup
the way you held china to my lips
sweet smell of jasmine
and blossom
when i could see i took it for granted
now i am no longer the self centered smug bastard from years ago
i know you as a true friend
who comforts me in sin
my nun
sweet angel
Written by troutmaskreplica
Published
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