Tea is my consolation,
From anxiety and fears that strike
Like venomous slithering snakes,
Who have missions to poison my resolve.

The most recent attack occurred,
During the late evening,
With their voices in my head shrieking and lashing,
Their troublesome words coiling around my air supply.

I dashed to the cupboard panicked,
To ensue Tea’s warm embrace,
And waited for the kettle to boil,
While tears trickled wordlessly down my face.

Tea greeted me warmly that night,
With a pleasant aroma of spices swirling up my nose,
And became the only thing I wanted;
A comforting liquid cascading down my throat.

I drank my blend of love in silence,
While my protector drew its steadfast sword,
And lashed those demons and the sorrows,
Into the dismal despair from whence they came.

Not long after the battle,
My silent friend with the warmth of a thousand suns crooned,
And watched as I fell soundlessly asleep,
Until the renewal of the afternoon.

Brittle stars hum, cackling underfoot,
Piles of mud and brick colored petals,
Gracing the ground in billows,
I watch it rain over her worn shoes.

A singing giggle escapes, and she runs,
Toddling toward a rusty pile of leaves,
Sliding under shady covers,
Where white sunshine used to greet me.

The leaves I see here are old,
They crack and break, dusty squares,
Of dead stars, they shot and no longer,
Shine. Not like her.

Her eyes still flash at unfamiliar things,
Everything is new, and it is music,
To her developing mind, it sings.
And I know this season doesn’t,
But who said moods had to match,

The breeze dances in, weaving through,
I watch it painting her tiny cheeks pink,
A new color, ringed by rustic browns,
And she smiles, with approaching teeth.