_ First Sips of a Freelance Morning _

Breathing, 
in a way that says 
"yes, this is it!" as the scone 
listens in from it's perch on the plate
and the chai cup sits pretty 
on saucer throne - 
basking in knowing
her heart has been won
by a spice on the tongue and 
sweet lines in the blood and the 
dreaming of someone's remembering lips 
while these swells keep unfurling 
like furtive smiles
on the warm pearly shores
​of belly.