Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Mug of Tea


Mug of Tea


Chilling blains tickle us alive,
Biting into the core within.
Every nerve ending has told,
Where is that winter coat ?


But favourably inviting us now,
Is the café on the square.
A slice of cake, homemade,
And a mug of steaming tea.


Sometimes that which saves us,
Are the simplest of things.
And who wouldn’t be warmed,
Fro that gift of refreshment ?