My morning sanity, my cup of tea.
In the winter freeze, you absorb my sneeze
keep me warm at sub-zero degrees.
I'll slurp you to your enticing base,
then burp inside your gasping face.
You may think I desert you,
leave you rotting, moulding by the sink.
But when my scalding massage follows
to erase your stink and allows
the joy of simmering swallows,
the stream of steam won't hurt you.
I might strangle your handle at an obscure
angle but it's always a cure, I'm sure.
Even when I slam you on my desk,
your picturesque shape soothes my stress.
At the next kitchen stop I'll prop you up,
top you up then mop up any needless mess.
I've tried to hide my rage as I hunt
to confront you in drawers and cupboards.
But upwards it soars as I creep on all-fours
to sniff out your heavily tea-stained scar.
I'm tear-stained not knowing where you are.
I crave your glug, I demand that hug,
for I miss you so, my errant mug.
Home
Widely unpublished
