While going through some old papers, like many a writer, I find fragments of things I’ve written over the years, mostly poems, sometimes stories, and sometimes rants. This one is in a melancholy mood, reminding me of my first nostalgic recognition that time was catching up with me and could soon run out.
“Grow old along with me,” you said
Sipping tea, aromatic with bergamot
Steam rising like a ghost,
I smiled,
Ready to join you on that journey
We ran across
Piano keys playing seconds
Racing up and down the scale
The assonances picked up
Wedding rings and kisses
Children
Sharps and flats.
The melody of spring time
Chased by summer’s desertification
Of our lives
That
And the first grey hair in my mirror.
Forgotten by the time autumn
Had ripened our fruit
Sent dandelion children
Floating on the breeze
Again I fill your cup of tea
Just one now, no sugar
Still bergamot flavoured
With steam
Escaping like warm breath
At the start of winter’s chill.
FictionPals 
Ah such intimacy in this one Rohini Sunderam! I really enjoyed the fusion of the different seasons into the daily tea ritual. You have used tea as a time device, like a clock’s hands that repeats over and over, keeping check of time. I would love to see my “A Chai Affair” kept side by side with this one.. both would go good together. Thank you for sharing dear, Mwah!
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Thank you Omar! I’d hoped you’d like it.
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