I Put My Life In A Mug Poem by Peter Lee

Finally comes the peace, rests the fluctuation
And, genteelly, wanes the beats.

The finger across the grip settles;
The tea that mirrors her face idles.
When the interlude meets its end in the movie,
Hearts quit to rustle.

Apathy, then, waxes,
And blurs the lingered light,
Cools the tea, clears the steam;
Vanishes the heat I hid inside.

Tears are never desired
And fear is deserved.
When, leaves the color,
Life, thence, stops to nerve.