Poem: Jasmine Tea

Jasmine Tea

It's taste is gentler than you remember,
more subtle and complex, as if
with age you can better sense
the layers of taste, better appreciate

it's imperfect gentleness, no longer
needing power or strength
in quite the same way
as you demanded it in the bloom
of exuberant and oblivious youth.

There are flowers in it, white
and shredded, reminding you of dogwoods
and the smell of magnolia in the distant
past.

With the second sip, you are young again,
belying the wrinkled truth of your face, and
your heart, once so tired,

lifts like the dancing steam
drifting upward from the cup,
white and mysterious and always,
always, disappearing.

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And yes, I really have recently rediscovered the subtle delight that is Jasmine tea,

Tom