Smitten

I have loved my first week in my new job. There have been some long hours, which will take a little getting used to, but I have been kept busy so it has never been dull. Plus, the people are great and drink copious amounts of tea! I also love working by the river, and so centrally. Today I finished at 3pm so wandered along to the Southbank in the sunshine to meet a friend (the lovely Anna of Book Early) where we browsed the book market by the BFI and stopped for a drink on the terrace of the Royal Festival Hall.

We also visited the Poetry Library in the Southbank Centre where I picked up 'Rapture' by Carol Ann Duffy from the 'New Poet Laureate' display, and happened to stumble upon the following, which struck a chord:

TEA

I like pouring your tea, lifting
the heavy pot, and tipping it up,
so the fragrant liquid streams in your china cup.

Or when you’re away, or at work,
I like to think of your cupped hands as you sip,
as you sip, of the faint half-smile of your lips.

I like the questions – sugar? – milk? –
and the answers I don’t know by heart, yet,
for I see your soul in your eyes, and I forget.

Jasmine, Gunpowder, Assam, Earl Grey, Ceylon,
I love tea’s names. Which tea would you like? I say
but it’s any tea for you, please, any time of day,

as the women harvest the slopes
for the sweetest leaves, on Mount Wu-Yi,
and I am your lover, smitten, straining your tea.