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.
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Author:
justwrite (
Offline) - Published: November 21st, 2015 08:04
- Comment from author about the poem: So my father is arab and my mother is Irish, i was born and raised in Ireland along with 8 siblings. This poem reflects on the contrast of having best of both worlds i guess, enjoying two very different things, mint tea typically arabian and a very irish morning experience. My dad and i often sat out in the early hours soaking up life like that, while the others slept in . We did not like to waste that special time of day or miss out on even a minute!
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