In the quiet morning light, a kettle sings,
Whispers of warmth, a soothing melody,
As steam rises, curling, it gently brings,
The promise of peace in every gentle plea.

The tea leaves dance in a porcelain sea,
Unfolding stories of sun and rain,
Each sip a journey, a discovery,
Of distant lands and moments unfeigned.

The brew, a tapestry of golden hues,
Weaves through the soul with tender grace,
In every cup, a world anew,
A tranquil haven, a sacred space.

As day fades into twilight’s embrace,
The last drop whispers a soft goodbye,
Yet in the heart, a trace,
Of tea’s gentle whispers, beneath the sky.