The first cup moistens my lips and throat.
The second cup breaks my loneliness.
The third cup searches my barren entrail but to find therein some thousand volumes of odd ideographs.
The fourth cup raises a slight perspiration - all the wrongs of life pass out through my pores.
At the fifth cup I am purified.
The sixth cup calls me to the realms of the immortals.
The seventh cup makes us dance on the tips of our toes
The eighth cup elicits a fit of giggles
The ninth cup unites the tea experience and prepares me for a deep slumber
The ten, alas I can take no more.
-Brittnee Lynch & Megan Gillming
3 comments:
we could truly take no more at that point. what poets we are. Best couple of days ever! Having you steal me would be great but I need to tend to the sibblings.
love you my sweet friend.
That poem sounded just like me when I sip tea.
Except replace "sip" with "chug" and replace "tea" with "scotch".
...I shouldn't be commenting in such nasty ways on your blog, I apologize. Oh and for the record, you should write children's books. You are an incredible author (not to mention the best in the family, don't tell the others).
Well done.
I am dying for a story. Please please.
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