Tea


Warm rain falls outside

as we sit here. You

sip your tea, then I

mine, listening to

the beat of the rain.

The trees blow and dance

in the wind. All the

colors are richer

and deeper in the

dim light. we speak in

silent voices, hushed

in awe of the life

outside. My tea has

grown cold. My eyes grow

heavy, and I curl

up in my chair. I

fall asleep, at peace

with the world and you.

[Fall 2006]

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s