Day 10 of the Poet’s Billow challenge:What’s in the tea leaves?

In this challenge we had to write about  fond memories of a particular experience with a sibling, recreating the context and world we lived in. I’ve dedicated this to my brother who is two years younger than me.

pot of tea

Fragile and fearful,

they saw you as weak.

But you were the one

who made me feel strong,

since I took the pain

all the emotional strain

with love in your defence,

protector against violence.


Yet most of all I well recall,

the tea leaves and the wood.

Fresh tea leaves from a teapot

well drawn, it never tasted so good.

Try though as I might, I can’t

recreate the taste buds

of a child of five, save the

certainty of satisfaction

of a brewed cup of tea,

plenty of sugar,lots of milk

and enough bread to dunk.


Remember, how we used

to scoop the soggy bread out

of the cup with a teaspoon?

Funny how that lonesome

memory still lingers with me.


Then the sheet of wood,

the one that was symbolic

of making our own little house,

for escape when the

world became a terrible place.

It would be our roof, our shelter

from monsters and pelting rain,

A dividing wall,when we needed

to extend our imaginary playhouse.

You treated me with such admiration.


Though we’re much older now,

I don’t think you’ve changed your view.

Of course, I’m still two years older than you

and I’m just sorry we lost that piece of wood.


We all need an imaginary wall sometimes!