It seems so easy now,
To make teafriends with you,
But would the time allow,
I'd stumble on the clue,
That you would soon endow,
The time with peaceful talk,
Knowing the time to sip from when to gawk.

All smokey fleeting depths,
Dole out such sweet attentiveness,
Reward ever the thought,
On their expound inventiveness,
It is far more as rubies,
A muddied lunge up to ichor,
Far more than thinning fruit,
But richness of eternal law.

A bed of roses for a garden path,
The way to common thought,
So brewing over our long days,
As these dear petals taught,
The peace in my familiar ways,
The mastery I saught,
Learns patience and longevity,
On rose black tea import.

I never thought my life would span so deep,
With smiles in little things,
Something redeemed of rituals keep,
My small trinkets of time.

In nursing solo tea,
Some little clarities,
Dash rubies in the light,
And make a man so rich.

It is the hidden hours,
The time outside of time,
When patience is to flower,
And make a man so rich.

To shrink from much to thought,
Or is it blooming out from much?

What pleasant company to join,
My table coming ever more my own,
And dine on aromatics wiser,
To the wadeless moment.

To nurse a little scent in all this time,
Like honied syrup so at ease to wait,
These rising dreams - the amber wisps,
Find light enough to pass unfettered here.