Come Have A Cup
by Belinda Roddie
Come have a cup of maple ginger tea
with me on this chilly September night.
It doesn't taste exactly as I dreamed
that it would taste, but the brew is all right.
I'll let your head rest on my shoulder, steep
the contents of my mug until it's dark,
and count the minutes 'til I fall asleep
while trains roar and the neighborhood dogs bark
a chorus of threats and apologies.
There isn't much to offer, where I stand,
the words meager, all too surprisingly,
so I compensate by holding your hand,
remembering why I hold you so dear,
as my sonnets total one complete year.