Poetry About Tea : "Wettened Rose..." - February 2021

Sing her Soul:

as ember's grace:

shape these sights to suck, prevail:

sever near, to propose space,

teacup as resume...

Her moon with wane:

and cordial seam,

as nectar folds to quell in guidance...

ghost to stir machine...

a serpent's level,

recognized,

slip embraced to season reckon:

time approaches dynasty:

to drift, in pure, her rule...

This crown as gathered ash,

she bears:

lipstick of voice, shelters silence

she walked with heels in all she loved,

and found rest along her reaper's bones:

may sing her soul,

to gift in chaste,

memento's mood...

She Screamed Alone.

To shatter hold:

in name so toned in lace and gold:

as ember's space...

love's align, poem...

sweet serpentine, age of tea:

her eve as steady grit, to sense:

aware to kneel,

a silhouette adorned in red silk,

given touch...

Sense as Aries,

glistening in gong:

her moon with wane:

where chord and bridge meet:

serpent's fold, caress her nurture...

unveil peace,

to curve, austere...

Sing her close, to still her Heart:

and fashion nectar to so suck,

her throat...

A serpent's gather, empathize:

where essence creams in strands of jade...

this hue as honey, Chinese bride...

Slip her form across this fire:

she is mother, 

Rose,

And friend.