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Apr 2014
Dear tea mug,
Dear, dear tea mug.
I have finished what must be
My seven hundred and fifteenth cup
Of tea.
I see a faint discolored ring inside you
You're getting old, my friend
I see scratches at your bottom
And a bit of sediment
But no matter what, you're my favorite
And no matter how old
Or discolored
Or scratched you become
I will depend on you to carry the great burden
Of
Mint
Chamomile
Or orange spice tea
For years and years to come.
I raise you to my lips
My sweet carrier of warm drink
And set you back on my windowsill
As I read on my wooden bench
Cushions pressing against my back,
Blanket embracing my cold legs.
But no matter how drafty it gets, kind friend,
I will always depend
On you to carry that great burden
Of tea
To warm me.
I appreciate how hard you work
I'm writing a poem about you, see
And I just want to let you know that
I love you and your burden of tea.
This one's a bit haphazard, but it gets the point across, no?
Sam Dunlap
Written by
Sam Dunlap  Chelsea
(Chelsea)   
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