Garden of Poetry

My cup of tea is steeped in deepest lore,
From olden times in lost, exotic lands -
The stuff of ardent scenes since days of yore.
I hold a cup of legend in my hands.
Reposed upon my thoughts as on a throne,
Beneath a tropic jungle’s misted light,
In visions of fragrant haze, I am shown
Incense scent from some ancient temple height.
Sweet wisps of Gypsy secrets at my lips,
I recollect the wealth of friendships past,
Dispelled to naught, like vaporizing ships,
‘Cross seas of mystery and romance vast.
  With kindred souls I sip, and muse, and dream,
  And sail away on wafts of sultry steam.
 
~ Daniel F Mitchell