Poetry

Tea Hands

dragonink90

My arms are full. I’m exhausted.

When I walk through the door

your smile caresses me

with the warmth of your hands – tea hands,

you would say if it were the other way around –

as you ease the weight away from me

and boil the kettle

to make a brew that will rest my entire body.

Published by dragonink90

I'm an author of fantasy and speculative fiction, a poet, and general creative person.