Another Cup of Tea

I lift my mug and check below the brim
And I'm met bare, there is nothing in
My cup of tea had disappeared, again

Time to boil the old kettle once more
I fill it first, back & forth along the floor
My feet tread worn tracks, again

Pavlov's bell, though mine is click & whistle
Tea bag thrown, an inaccurate missile
I wait impatiently to brew, again

Pour from a height, clear to dark brown
Tea bag floats, I force it around, down
A splash of milk completes, again

Back to my seat, my place of work
A kitchen table, beside place & fork
Ready to start, again

I set it down after first succulent sip
And lift it up, the brim against my lip
My cup of tea has disappeared, again

By Pete Scopes