Spontaneity

50%

The glass is always half full,

milk tea coated with nectar, 

the 50% sweetness coating our ready tongues

as we sip and we enjoy and we laugh

through the scratch of straw on cup 

that tickles our ears or crunches noisily against 

ice cubes crisp and clear. My eyes latch

onto your soul like a vice, capturing its purity

as I admire the empty cup

dotted with crystallised condensation,

reflecting rays of hope from the warm sun,

illuminating your chestnut-tinted eyes

no different from a perfect tapioca pearl,

completely whole, utterly beautiful.