In the quiet morn, a kettle sings,
Steam rising, curling in gentle rings,
A dance of warmth in porcelain embrace,
The world awakens to a sacred place.

Leaves unfurl, a story told in hues,
Amber liquid, the soul’s own muse,
Bitter notes with sweet repose,
In every sip, the heart’s prose.

In twilight’s glow, a quiet eve,
The cup of tea bids worry leave,
A tranquil pause, a moment’s grace,
Time slows in this serene space.

Through seasons’ change and life’s vast sea,
A constant friend, steadfast tea,
Whispering tales of ancient lands,
In simple cups, dreams expand.