As I take a sip of the fresh brew
Its aroma hits my senses
What is it about a hot cuppa?
That relaxes you and shakes your grey cells,  
Both at the same time
And I look at the warmth of the cup and wonder
This tea certainly has a strong character
And a sweet soul
Will I be able to do justice to it?
Will I be able to utilize its strength to the fullest?
Will its sweetness keep my bitter memories at bay?
Have I been fair to it so far?
What if in the last few sips it loses its taste,
Becomes bland and cold?
Will it be the teas fault or mine?
For I let it sit idle, same age old mistake of not jiving with time
There were other invites, full of warmth and promises
And I chose this one
It demands certain pace and respect for the all things hot
When I finish, will the cup be clean and empty, may be a small drop left
Or will the cream of what I could have had be in the cup still?