Poetry: DREAM by miss macross
I am a small piece of art, sipping deities on a chilly spring morning.
This tea shop’s specialty is holy basil tea, but I am steeping lavender sage. The steam curls like tendrils, softening everything it touches.
I look out the frosted window and the roads are streaked with strange shades of blue. I have no clue what’s going on outside. But the sun is shining for the first time in days, and so am I.
I look around. I am the only person here. I lean back in my chair, letting the tea cup’s warmth travel from my fingertips to my heart. The heat activates my heart, transforming my body into light. I become the tea shop’s personal sun. I can stay here forever.