morning tea

The crinkle of opening the packet sounds also of a kettle crying to be turned off Hot water poured releases sweet fragrances that erase any remaining remnant of sleep Pausing to smell, they take me somewhere farther than where I need to be going A quick, impatient sip results in returned senses and a burned tongue Tangy tartness, still unsweetened by spoonfuls of sugar mix with toothpaste mint Quite the unpleasant taste. Morning birds, brightening skies Hot, deep red, loved only by vampires, barely reflect the face that peers in Seemingly an endless pit, despite the volume of the steaming mug Losing time and patience, a few stinging gulps are taken The remaining contents, reflecting nothing, go down the darkness of the drain Perhaps, to the waters of that somewhere farther away.