This was one of those rare times that I decided to sit down and write a poem, rather than scrabbling around for a pen when inspiration hits me, like a muse lobbing sugar cubes at the back of the bus. In a lonely game of Eye-spy I sat at the wintry kitchen table in Edinburgh and watched the room’s only heat source slowly gift it’s energy – my cup of tea.
Drink
Your tea!
Drink up,
Hydrate,
Caffinate.
Steam
Streams
From the
White hot china
Towards the
Mandate of heaven.
Steam,
Unnoticed until now,
Curls and flickers,
The ghost
Of a flame.
The
Half-seen leaving
Of a soul
From a
Warm body.
Once gone,
It cools.
Breathe
That soul
Into my lungs
Swallow down
Hot glugs
That make
My eyes water
Taste
The tannins
Coat my throat,
A strange
Dryness
That makes
Me drink
Again.
Joe Blogs 2018