Tea

Tea came and sat with her on the balcony. It told her great stories of a man from the East, a dragon, the end, a beginning. Fire erupted in her soul, but not the kind that burns, fire that fuels. The story continued. She loved the redemption at the end, and throughout, as each character came to life. In her hand, a cup of tea, in her mind a story, in her heart, praise.

She was from faraway, the land of scarves and swaths of bright cloth, and tea and sunshine, the colors more vibrant and the rain sideways. Her steps were safe, over stones set for her by the kindness of family. Her words were fire, the kind that heals, and her tea was strong and sweet.