Am I sweet, like the brown sugar I put in my tea?
Or am I bitter?
Maybe I'm bitter, I'm the one who left after all.
Years ago.
It's still sweet seeing you. Walking on the school bus. I make enough room so you could sit next to me.
But you instead get the window seat.
I look out and see what was meant to be.
I wish there still was you and me.
It's bitter, like my tea without the brown sugar.
You without me.
I wasn't as sweet as I am today.
Sure, I'm a little bitter, rough around the edges.
Soft and warm in the middle.
Cream cookies and hot tea.
Grandma's recipe calls for 1 ½ cups of
Brown sugar.
It's healthier that way.
Grandma knows best.
It was healthier that way.
You in my life. Somehow.
Brown sugar and hot tea
Hot tea and brown sugar.
Me and you.
You and me.
YOU ARE READING
His poems, Their poems, My poems, Our poems
PoetryI write so he knows. I write so they know. I write so I know. I writes so we understand. Original poems and essays by Leasia Rayona "Leray" Posey.
