Cup of Tea

 

My love song cannot be poured;

In gilded cups of cultured taste-

Two lumps of sugar

A dash of cream

 

Shivering on the spine of imagination

Pulsing with the rough and heat of life

Some confidences are not served best

With steaming cups of chai.

 

Touched by your lips and mine

Is the extent of our sharing

No matter how carefully brewed

Public offering loses exclusivity

 

I am not so easy

With saccharine emotions

Pretending muddied waters

Do not conceal shallow depths.

 

Nor am I searching

For the right blends;

How can taste and aroma

Be real if it is concocted?

 

Straining for expression

Friction celebrates meaning

With puffs of smoke

Waters condense in rare colors

 

By the time you drain feelings out

Of each gauche word spoken

Nothing in its dregs

Will portend an omen

 

© Ruby Mohan

 

 

 

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