A supple sip of Chamomile…

“A supple sip of Chamomile…”

A supple sip of Chamomile
Dripped honey into a sky cup.
Curly curls swim through tea.

A crook’d finger clutches
the little handled
handle. Slurping steaming aroma,
Over lips,

Through the teeth,

Caressing the ever-so-cool

Spot beneath the tongue.

Debris of tea,

And my love, dive deep

Piercing the heart and warms chilled

Toes
Finger
And nose.

She holds me dear inside and out.