My Cup of Tea
He is the crimson bold-red dragon, that
traversing her varies dreams,
slaying monster of all evils,
and hoist me out every passing life’s nightmares;
The one who softly rubbing a drop of magic tincture, upon
the long serrated gash inside an injured crying heart,
carrying and comforting it into an olive-green velvet cradle, then
tenderly weaving a magic ribbon of
butterfly spirit upon her wounded left shoulder.
Yet when she woke up, he was long gone,
only the cool breeze whispering through the window-pane,
beckoning fresh morning news,
and the well-being of him on the other side…
A clear glass bottle arched over from the dreamworld,
rolling upon her white pillow case,
sealed with sparkling ocean flowers, and a little sweet note:
“The red-tea is ready in the kitchen, whenever you’re ready to get up”
You are my cup of tea.