If you could see what I see...
You would see the little dance you conduct in your seat before you take your first bite of something sweet and the spoon you leave on the counter each morning
enveloped by an elfin pool of the very tea that warms our cold toes
You wonder if the counter feels the luxury it holds
Your anger stays contained like the sugar in the cupboard that you refuse in the mug you bought just last week at Jean’s Antiques
“I’ll have honey, it’s plenty sweet,” you say all the while your toes dip deeper into an abyss that exists between each cushion in the loveseat with every sip you drink.
Is it the tea or the comfort found warming your feet? Never change