The kettle sings its morning song,
Rising steam in ribbons of white.
We gather close with steady hands,
Bathed in the soft, returning light.
Pumpkin spice and berry notes,
Each cup a portrait of its own.
The green swirl dancing in the heat,
The peaceful seeds of friendship sown.
Blueberry **** strawberry bright,
And cinnamon's warm, earthy glow.
We wrap our palms 'round ceramic walls,
Watching the summer garden grow.
The bees are humming in the heat,
The birds are chanting from the trees.
But the loudest sound in all the world
Is the quiet heart at total ease.
No heavy words, no frantic days,
Just the girls and the rising sun.
With hot matcha held in every hand,
The work of being "us" is done.
Apr 11
Apr 11, 2026 at 4:49 PM UTC
The kettle sings its morning song,
Rising steam in ribbons of white.
We gather close with steady hands,
Bathed in the soft, returning light.
Pumpkin spice and berry notes,
Each cup a portrait of its own.
The green swirl dancing in the heat,
The peaceful seeds of friendship sown.
Blueberry **** strawberry bright,
And cinnamon's warm, earthy glow.
We wrap our palms 'round ceramic walls,
Watching the summer garden grow.
The bees are humming in the heat,
The birds are chanting from the trees.
But the loudest sound in all the world
Is the quiet heart at total ease.
No heavy words, no frantic days,
Just the girls and the rising sun.
With hot matcha held in every hand,
The work of being "us" is done.