Tea:

Of all the wonderful beverages,
That one could possibly drink,
The greatest one’s so obvious,
One would hardly have to think,
Tea is so compelling,
Because like it, there are none,
That is why it outshines,
Per say, coffee three to one,
Enjoying it is an experience,
But don’t ask me what to think,
Because you’re the one who’s sipping the tea,
So go ahead and drink,
Though it can make you feel at home,
It can also burn your hands,
But there’s a power in every kettle and cup,
To take us to exotic lands,
Tea is what I’d call a sensitive drink,
Every ingredient changes taste,
For each item I take great care,
To not grind to a paste,
Taken with a pod of cardamom,
Hints a short moment of sorrow,
But when you’ve finished the cup you’ll feel as if,
It’ll always better tomorrow,
Taken with a tiny hint of cloves,
Does not allow theatricality,
Because the sharp bitterness only yields,
A taste of harsh reality,
Taken with a drop of honey,
It’s power the meaning of shrewd,
It’s sweet temptation of infinite bliss,
Surely it must delude,
Tea is what I’d call an elegant drink,
Some would say sublime,
If you have not a minute for a cup of tea,
Then you should make the time.