Freestyle Poetry | Humor
An Ode to Earl Grey
My ephemeral muse
In the morning mist, I brew a cup of magic,
Grey clouds in my cup, a fragrant oracle —
Citrus whispers, bergamot’s ghostly dance,
Its essence unravels an intimate romance.
Each sip, a sonnet, each taste a nuanced verse,
I conjure dreams with the delicate steam,
An urban alchemist, transmuting leaden
Minutes into golden mornings — sip, breathe, become.
This potion, my solace, where mystics whisper,
Old world, new world, mingled in amber swirls —
My tongue, the stage for this delicate ballet,
Notes of floral symphony, echoing solace.
The world unwinds, unfurls in liquid silk,
As the city roars, I dwell in quiet reverie,
Chased by the essence of dusk in dawn’s embrace —
A paradox, sweet as a stolen sigh.
A cheeky muse, this tea, a muse of gentle bite,
It mocks my haste, slows time with subtle grace,
In each drop, I find the universe’s secret,
In each leaf, the riddle of my restless heart.
Earl Grey, my morning’s lover, ephemeral muse,
With you, I defy the city’s brazen rush —
A sip of poetry, in porcelain repose,
An ode to the day, in fragrant clarity.
Ani Eldritch 2024
