Maddie Noton writes a witty tribute to a cup of tea.
The raindrops are beating against her head, The wind is rushing, roaring and punching, It thrashes on down from a stormy bed, Her hair is fighting the hood it’s scrunched in. The stairs stand at a height never-ending, While her door-keys scratch a red-raw knuckle, Her boots ache from the puddles she’s stepped in. The door screams a malevolent chuckle. Yet a shimmer of light graces her eyes, Then a click, a splash, a grumble and smoke. The angel that waited for her to arrive, Does cosy and homely feelings evoke. Her thoughts ponder the prospects of supper, But first she’ll enjoy her much-sought cuppa.
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