09-26-2014, 12:45 PM
I was sitting in this quaint tea stall,
tinned roof noisy in the January breeze—
a few wooden benches, kettle boiling
in the corner with the brew
and the rising flavor of ginger.
The tea boy comes
with tea in an old glass,
a layer of froth on the top.
I sip watching the Mexican Lilac tree,
its branches spread out like the legs of the spider.
A group of Japanese tourists come in.
One sits next to me and looks at the ground
carpeted with pink petals. He looks at me
starts a conversation and we talk about
Japan and cherry blossoms
tinned roof noisy in the January breeze—
a few wooden benches, kettle boiling
in the corner with the brew
and the rising flavor of ginger.
The tea boy comes
with tea in an old glass,
a layer of froth on the top.
I sip watching the Mexican Lilac tree,
its branches spread out like the legs of the spider.
A group of Japanese tourists come in.
One sits next to me and looks at the ground
carpeted with pink petals. He looks at me
starts a conversation and we talk about
Japan and cherry blossoms