The kettle hums its mellow tune,
As sunlight spills through lace at noon.
A single cup, a steeped delight,
Unfolds like petals in soft light.
The table waits, both still and sweet,
With scones and treats, a dainty seat.
A folded napkin, pure and white,
Beside the brew, steeped just right.
Outside the glass, the garden sings—
Of feathered flits and fluttered wings.
Cardinals dart and robins stay,
As blossoms nod the time away.
A magazine, its pages turned,
While golden tea leaves gently churned.
No need for talk, no urgent task,
Just peace, in every sip and bask.
In this small hour, the world slows down—
The bustle fades, the stress unwound.
For here I find, in birds and tea,
A quiet kind of company.
Comments
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Beautiful and serene. What a scene!