Tea Leave

January 9, 2018 at 8:48 pm (Uncategorized) (, , )

In tepid drink devoid of taste,
the third today I’ll lay to waste
A ring of tannin has foretold
I’ll not sup tea as I grow old.

In small white cups you fill with brown,
Beneath the rim, and halfway down,
Lurk furtive creatures made of burp,
That bite the lips of those who slurp.

So pour it out and wash the cup
But fetch no more, I’ve given up:
A ring of tannin has foretold
I’ll not sup tea as I grow old.

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