READING TEA LEAVES

Passion and desire, without the love,

only lasts a while before it’s gone.

It’s like luke warm tea, the bag left to soak

too long, she advised, bitter to the taste.

I took another sip of tepid brew,

wished for the boiling heat of what once was.

As I stared into my cup, wondering

what happened to the “if only” we’d dreamed,

she spoke to me again, in whispered words.

Sometimes it is good to break the pattern;

the first step – finding the pattern to break.

Passion and desire – without the love?

Love without the desire and passion?

Wanting all three, I drank the witch’s brew

and broke the cup with a wish for it all.

Siobhan