To Erin

Teapot - for Blog

Every year at this time,
when the temperature dips
and the chill runs
right through me,
I reach for the teapot
you gave me for Christmas
all those years ago.

I brew a whole pot
and I sip it,
quietly and slowly,
tiny cup by tiny cup.

You told me back then
that you pictured
me and Nanette
drinking tea from that pot,
talking the afternoon away
by the fire.
Never mind that we’ve never done that;
that image still appears 
at the first hint of jasmine, 
which makes it just as real as real.

Every year at this time,
I reach for that pot,
and it warms me from the inside out.
And I think of you,
and that warms me even more.

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