Love in the Longing, Not in the Having

As ginger and cinnamon tickle my nose,

I yearn for the steam before bag kisses cup.

I run towards the trench coat and briefcase

to realize the man is a stranger, not you that I miss.

Snowflakes white sugar in my open mouth

that wants cotton candy and pop at the fair.

No matter the sunshine, the laughter, the flowers,

it’s love in the longing I hunger for most.

***

My favorite tea inspired me to write this poem. By the time the bag steeped enough for the flavor to come through, the water was too lukewarm for me to enjoy the tea.

published in Imogene's Notebook