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.

Amorousness is a cerulean stone
Beautifully colored, but weighs you down
Too afraid to speak, or smile, or stare
Scared of a secret you don't want to share

Months with a mixture of love and fear.

Devastation is an indigo jewel
Found deep in the earth of the lies of a fool
Yet in devastation there lies the truth
Hidden in notes and gray telephone booths

The years weathering the emotions of youth.

Purification is an apricot timepiece
Clean and bright and punctual, please
Don't mistake pure to be free from sin
Though the heart can start over as a new hour can

The time cleansing wounds from a phase worn thin.

While we are talking about time, let me just say
That the memories of an hour don't all go away
But memories are saffron ink pens in the sense
That their time fades, but never ends.

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Delicate
Your petals curve out from your slim center
Pale arches spreading out and over.
Sweet smelling stalks support
Bells that sway in the night.
The moonlight shines through your vibrant white body
Filling you with unearthly light.
Gentle music accompanies you.
As this night surrounds us
I place you in the gentle rock pool
And the water shimmers cool, clear gossamer.
The smooth stones will protect you
Watching in the waterbed.
Will you sing back to the moonbeam, dear flower,
While I leave you here to rest?