Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Another one

This poem could have been written for several people I know.

TEA BAG

You are
A four-cornered star, shining rustily in hot water
You are
The perforated parachute that makes my morning
Landings soft when I crash in from dreamland

You are a savoury scented sandbag
As half-empty as it is half-full
Your permeable membrane an inverted flood-wall

You're the force that through infusion drives my waking hour
A freshwater sponge, soaking up my power
To resist you, I insist you're always welcome to muddy my waters

For when I'm blue I brew you up
And pour you out into my cup
And offered as soothing ointment to my oesophagus
You are not a disappointment

Although you are (a disappointment) as a Christmas decoration
And also as a duvet you've a very low tog-rating

Produce of more than one country
You are an intercontinental holistic missile
Yes I'll always keep our mid-morning appointment
For the best of many heavens is
Elevenses
And when you're hot for me
To be honest
Just one is
Enough per pot for me

Consolation prize, foul-weather friend
Treasure at the rainbow's end
Calm-inducer, tongue-loosener
Rescue-remedy, biscuit softener
You're often a subtle social worker
Or community relations officer

Peace-broker, mediator
China-stainer, radiator
Nerve-soother, mood-changer
Don't you ever be a stranger

My multi-tasking flask-filler
Waker-upper
Cuppa-maker
Throat-Stroker

I'll see you later...


Matt Harvey

1 comment:

peacepyro said...

wow, yay for tea. It's all so true