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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