Rainy days are ones I want to spend with you.
Listening to our favorite music,
writing out lines of poetry,
close together with a soft blanket
and our cups of tea.
Its funny how things have changed.
Like songs I’ve heard before
by bands who entertain my ears
seem totally new after meeting you.
How could one person change that?
Anxious to see you,
like waiting for that tea
to meet my lips at last,
and show me something new.
A sweet, dark indulgence.
And once I’m finished,
there is nothing left,
but a dark ring around the inside of my mug.
Piping hot lines about tea I’ve never tasted
have expired onto this paper.