Lemon Ginger Tea

Usually I am a man of black coffee.
I pay my daily two-o-two fee
For dark roast standard at blenz.
But one day, I put on a new lens
And chose a cup of lemon ginger tea
To please my cold-struck throat's plea.

Tinge of citrus, like peeling tangerines
Warm as mittens on snowfield serene
Poke of ginger like an elusive fae
Yellow as Vancouver sun-shown day.
Still my soul yearns the black brew in me
I like you but... You're not my cup of tea.

Wren


Next poem: The Jump
Last poem: Odd Blessing


Here's a random picture of a fish that took me three hours to draw:

Insanity Incarnate by Warren Koo