Cold Floors & Warm Hands

Cold Floors & Warm Hands

Cold Floors & Warm Hands

Cold Floors & Warm Hands

Tea starts it all,
the early morning yawn
the hunger
subdued until, awash,
the warmth begins.
A pause on the treadmill,
these enlisted infusions,
the first of the day,
shared,
with friends,
pets, memories,
or just with silence,
it is all still to be done,
the living,
but only after
this moment’s quiet,
this friendly tea.

Posted by Simon in Poetry