Closing my eyes, I sit on my chair with tea,
sipping and cupping my chai with please.
Its cinnamon scent wafts through the air,
sending pleasant shivers everywhere.

Hints of cardamon slide down my throat with ease,
the musky mix of spices and black tea.
Slowly, I release my back to rest comfortably,
on the back of the old chair, that my mother gave me.

The heart is tired and growing heavy,
the body's calling me to sweet sleep;
I say so long for things today,
as the land of Nod in stillness creeps.
I will dream and not remember,
I will wake, let's hope, refreshed;
even in the fog of early morning,
as sleep and wakefulness, are meshed.
Goodnight to friends and fellow poets,
thanks for all the joys you bring;
that tug at our emotions daily,
that cause the weary soul to sing.
Sharing grievance with the world,
sharing every happiness;
without your voices heard and raised,
your poems would all be sorely missed.

Sticky scent arouses my head
Through my spine and down my neck
In my chest is where it goes next
This stickiness is now everywhere

****.