Cold … can almost hear my teeth telling that to each other!
Tired of conversations;
And someone just hears what I want—
A hot—brewing—dark brown liquid,
Thick in consistency;
As rightly as I would want it—
A sip—and I would love to kiss the hands that made it—
Mother—how you always know what I want?
I go back—talk to everyone around—
Warming my hands with the coal burning aside,
And so wanting this time to extend!