The fragrant steam from our cups, danced into the air.
we stared into the milk white sky, the irish breeze rushing through our hair.
our voices almost echoed, the early hours stood and listened.
your eyes reflected my face, they touched me as they glistened.
mr.robin always came, to perch upon that tree.
So shy was he and we\'d whisper, not to scare him off his tree.
sweet mint tea, just you and me, breathing in the time.
healing our hearts and freeing our minds in the morning so sublime.