Tea From the Porcelain
The Dusty and earthy scent of the rain,
Makes me want to pour from the porcelain.
Oh! those split splat sounds,
Sways away the unfettered grounds.
The first sip of the tea,
Is as peaceful as the undersea,
Making life a little less monotonous,
And the worries frivolous.
The brazen thunder strikes,
Resonating the hardships of the lives,
But my mind is in wallow,
Not allowing it to go any shallow.