Tea time

 "Sugar... one spoon or more?" 

 the subtleties behind

 this gentle query each time 

 made me blush and smile

 as I savored my morning nectar

 at the nondescript tea stall

 part of ritual included 

 county made bun

 I licked sediments and sipped

 till the last drop 

 It carried me back in time

 to memories of the safest haven

 I call home

 I could distinctly visualize

 the ripples in tea mugs

 hear sound of conch

 resonating with spoon's gentle stir

 that the vendor made 

 to attract bystanders 

The lilting cadences would overpower 

 my stray moods soon

 I would burst into a fit of creation 

 compose a musical crescendo  

 write down a few lines even 

 hum a new tune

My bubbling breath brewed up

with the elegance of morn

my days begun there

as curls of clouds evaporated effortlessly

from my tea cup.