The morning cup of tea


As my sleepy brain
responds to the knowledge of you,
I hold you cupped in both hands
so I can feel the strong curve
of your bone china body
in my hollowed palms.
Your handle, a limb, a space for
fingers to slip gently into.
This handle means I can’t drop you,
you are shaped to be cherished.
At first I only sense the heat of you,
but so deliciously quickly, as I pull
my lips to you, that sweet warmth
flows into my mouth and over my tongue.
I like to take you into me hotter
than is safe so that I can feel
every last measure of your liquid life.
Drunk fully with deep gulps, you are soon
emptied and I smile, satisfied.


Vanessa Stone July 2009