brewed with memories of places I have been.
I can taste the shade and mountain breeze.
Delicate upon my tongue,
flavors of earth and sun combine.
Bright aroma of cool rain fills my cup,
as I sip the rich amber liquid.
A splash of milk, as tradition proclaims.
On the air, chanting of a time long past.
Lazy afternoons under an acacia tree
flash through my mind.
Friendly banter with natives, the gift of new words.
A land of beauty and mystery that lives forever in my morning ritual,
holding warmth within my hands.
Tea time in Kenya.
“I write because it is who I am.” – the writer