For English we were supposed to write a poem expressing respect and appreciation for an everyday object. So.
My brother had been the one
Who drank tea
When he visited.
The dark purple-colored water
Steaming from the ancient teapot
Would fill the sides of the ceramic mug
That had a white cartoon cow on the outside.
I knew that he drank it
Because everybody else had coffee
And his church did not allow such things.
But he would always smile gratefully
As he inhaled the steam from his mug
And drank the hot Cherry-Berry tea.
A year ago
I tried desperately to enjoy tea
I had wanted to be more like my beloved brother
And the lovable Arthur Dent.
I wanted the same feeling of contentment when I drank it
I wanted it to feel like home
I wanted to yearn for it
When catastrophes happened
Even if they were not
My planet being destroyed.
But even though
I drowned my bag in milk
And suffocated it with sugar
I would sneer
At the offensive smell
And cringe
As I drank the liquid.
Now I can pull various bags from the cupboard
Like little Christmas presents
For I have discovered
The raw heat
Like lava beneath the earth
Beautiful and fiery
Frightening at first
But I now understand
The extensive benefits.
Tea has the power to transform.
It has transformed the large mug that I possess
That had since just sat on my dresser unused
To become a necessary part of my day,
A cherished object
With the paint
Of that silly blue owl
Barely visible
From all the washing.
Tea has the power to warm the soul.
And more often that not
I am cold
With the cold weather approaching
And the perplexing
Idea of my body
To be cold
All of the time
Regardless of the height
Of the mercury.
Tea has the power to comfort.
The steam, the hot water
Reaches into the synapses
Of my brain
And when my mind is scattered
And I am nervous
And anxious
Or angry
Or upset
Or sad
Or frustrated
Or out of control
I drink the scalding potion
And it reaches where all the words would never reach
And it calms me down
Without saying
Anything at all.