Stirring my tea
In the pot, a memory, stirring, sweet,
Blended leaves, a dance of flavors meet.
Mornings greeted with a warming brew,
Guests welcomed anytime, with joy imbued.
Evenings, families, mingling delight,
Snacks and tea, a comforting sight.
A bygone era, those moments vast,
My heart yearns, wishing to recast.
Now a tea bag, in water's lively bubble,
Worldly varieties, a sip, a subtle cuddle.
The stirred bag, a lingering trace,
Sipped with pleasure, a fleeting embrace.
Tempo shifts, living's altered rhyme,
Kettles abandoned in this modern time.
Tea bags tidy, no mess to confess,
Yet, the charm of stirred leaves, a timeless caress.
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