Which sat in my cupboard for almost two years
because I was too sentimental to open it,
or perhaps was slightly nervous I’d get drunk off of it,
no matter how preposterous that sounds.
The tea that she left on my desk
when I was too sleepy to wake up and say goodbye.
Which she left next to her note and little tea cup
as a reminder that nobody knows tea like she does.
Tea that supposedly makes for a royal evening.
But which actually just tastes like egg nog.
