I see love as a pot of tea
placed in the floor of bamboo vale.
Its scent floats to the farthest sea,
but humbly stores in nature's tale.
Neither pungent as instant coffee,
pressing tastebuds to accept
nor insipid as purified water,
disinterested to reject-
It starts fresh, ends rich.
It milds bitter, leaves sweet.
It boils tears and troubles
into a rising aroma of steam.
If promises hold dear, it never dies.
The scent never fakes, though it flies.
If water is tainted, then dancing leaves
shall clear it out and start again.
Time selects the best leaves to green
Nature ensures the best water to drink
Patience wakes the coupling to see
a pot of tea, a pot of beauty.
Such tea I sip, is a long-living life.
Every taste of it becomes vibrant.
I see love as a pot of tea,
the puriest of all, bright and deep.