Good afternoon! I've had a most relaxing time consisting of baking whilst listening to music and now I'm watching Friends on telly with a cup of tea. Talking of tea, here's a poem I wrote about tea two years ago. It was also read out at my degree show this summer. I got a laugh at the end. Yahoo.
Enjoy your Wednesday folks xo
Tea.
At first, single components
perched on the cold marble work surface
waiting to fulfil their ambition.
Bag. Milk. Water. Mug.
The angry kettle releases its seething vapour,
a droplet lingers on my nose as I gently pour.
Feeling the pressure lessen on my wrist
I dab my brow and relax as the water changes colour.
Extracting the bag with the steely spoon
I discard it and concentrate on the final stage.
The make or break of the sequence.
I unscrew the cap on the pearly bottle
and let the chilled fluid transfuse
for a moment before claiming it as my own.
I feel the terracotta warmth as I delicately sip
from my favourite, familiar mug.
As the bubbles pop, I peer into my mug of liquid brick.
Is that why they call it builders’ tea?
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