Steam rises from the cup—
a soft, drifting veil
curling into morning light.
The tea, warm and quiet,
holds a calm the world forgets,
its fragrance opening slowly
like a whispered truth.
Beside it rests a lotus flower,
petals folded in serene attention,
unbothered by time,
untouched by haste.
The steam lifts,
the lotus breathes,
and for a moment
their stillness becomes one—
a meeting of warmth and grace,
where nothing is asked
and everything is understood.
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