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Of Tea Water

Tags: love
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In a condensation of the tea water
with a fragrance of pekoe,
in evaporation as if a scent,
like a landscape of Claude Monet's.

As we kiss with love's extract
beneath a trellis of the stars,
in my poetry of memoirs,
my impression of sunrise.

The scent lingers,
the hour feigns
as the moment's pleased,
and the brush falters.

Now the sunrise on the canvas,
the stars fall,
the sun rises,
and my arms fall to you.








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