The Tea Maker

a poem by Rita Joyce Singh, India

There’s nothing the matter with you my dear,
That a good cup of tea will not resolve.
Speaks my tea-maker of many a year,
Patiently, stirring sugar to dissolve.
Folks, meant well suggesting meditation,
Yoga, calming techniques, deep breathing,
Holding me time-bound, with consternation,
And still, unsoothed and unquiet seething.
Dauntless and supportive tea-maker, he,
Well learned of twinings, fannings and dust,
Brews up rare Muscatel flavour for me,
‘Darjeeling!’ says Tea maker, “Drink ! you must!”
No Jasmine, nor Bergamot of Earl Grey,
Can match its cheer, any, good or bad day.

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