This is a revised version of my first assignment:
Tea
My mind swims with thoughts of disappearing dreams,
fading sleep films that slip away as I lift my head from the pillow.
Last night's obsessions, worries, and hopes grow dim
as I stumble into the kitchen,
bleary eyes blinking away the glare of the streetlamp
still streaming through the front window
even as the dawn begins to break.
I open the cupboard and search for my favorite mug,
find it dirty in the dishwasher,
yesterday's lipstains and fingerprints still clinging to the glass.
A glob of soap, a swish of water and I wash them clean,
preparing the cup for our new day.
Cold water from the Brita heats quickly in the microwave.
The sweet smelling bag filled with crushed chamomile,
apple bits, and crumbles of cinnamon is put to steep.
Clear water slowly clouds, steam hits my nose,
I burn my tongue and begin to wake.
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