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My Tea And Your WineAt night, when time ripples into pools of providence, my heart pauses to reflect on the tea leaves contained in a small white tea bag. Condensation beads-up on the sides of the mug. I take a sip of the hot liquid relishing the warm comfort as it slides down my throat. I think of you sitting alone at your kitchen table sipping a glass of white wine. Your libido resurrected at the unbidden thought of my tender caress, of my passionate kiss. You are my favorite cup of tea, your condensation beads-up around my needy heart. I sip you slowly as I would a Wild Horse Chardonnay or a saucy red Dubonay Merlot. Your warm love sends pulsing waves of heat through my soul. I relish each enticing moment, each time the river of your love washes over this trembling body. And, I think of how fortunate your wine glass is--to know the softness of your lips upon its glassy rim, to know the tender intensity of your fingers upon its slender stem. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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