The Ritual

Early morning solitude
Awakens with bird songs
And fading cricket sonatas
Rising dayspring mist resembles  
Steam emanating from the kettle
On the brink of a whistle  
Sugar and cream float patiently
As the teabag sits primly still
Civilized in its order  
Anticipation of the first sip
Matched by the alluring aroma
Of steeping English Breakfast
Not another portion of the day
Will equal these moments  
Meant just for me  
Alone and quiet
At peace and grateful  
Embraced by my morning tea
Written by Honoria
Published | Edited 14th Aug 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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