this tea, was made byso many hands,i cannot count them alleach leaf gently kissedeach finger and as i sip,each of theirnameless handsdissolves oneach of my tastebudswith a satisfying ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I’ve often found myself contorting,squeezing into other peoples’ boxes.Maybe it’s because I’m small.I can fit into places easily. But my stomach hangs over my legs,petruding over the line. Stuffing never helps. Hiding can often reveal more than what was hidden. So I stopped contorting.
Mint tea in clean mug,warm and small feelings of joy,which I hold onto.