When the morning sun pulls at me,
while I let night’s sheet billow over my body,
as I sit in front of the keyboard and
silence purrs in the corners of my mind,
tickling my fingertips as
friends drag on dulled out conversations,
I’ll have it steaming in my hands.
It’s a simple thing, really.
No one thinks of it and says,
“Yes, it’s what makes me smile, too.”
But it does, for me, it paws at all my emotions.
It’s a part of my life’s steady rhythm.
A moment in each ordinary day.
A piece to my habitual puzzle.
It provides a comfort, the subtle perfection.
So when the morning sun pulls at me
the first thing I do is fill my lion mug
to the top with boiling tea.