In the quiet of this kitchen,

our time together slows

like a baby’s crawl

and the world outside fades into fumes.

You stand, stirring with your favorite spoon,

while tea leaves dance

to the soft sighs of the kettle.

Tonight, you and I are alone

on this rainy day,

together in the soft flickers of candlelight.

All ingredients in your tea contain a story untold.

They whisper melodies

only our two hearts can sing to.

Jasmine blooms, a milky garden of our past.

Its petals spread wings in fragrant waves,

opening ways into sun-drenched strolls

and day-lit giggles that clashed

with the clamorous breeze.

Mint chuckles, a symphony of childhood echoes,

resounding giggles that filled these kitchen walls with love,

shared secrets, and hopes whispered late at night

over steaming mugs.

Chamomile cradles your motherly embrace.

Ease with each sip; every hushed tear

grazed by calloused hands—maps of resilience

etched in gentle folds.

And lemon zest, bright like your smile’s illumination,

lights rooms with sparks of joy.

Every sip is a toast

to the small victories of the present

and the unnamed promises of the future.

You stir; your spoon a compass through the mist,

swirling worries in circles.

Steam rises: questions become unspoken

and suspended through the air.

There is trembling in that quiet, which we both share.

You fill warm ceramic cups.

Comfort is offered in each scented pour.

"Let your fears steep, my love," you murmur.

"Let them find a voice in the gentle brew."

Within every cup, minutes and memories become quilted—

a story brewed in silence,

love whispered between lines of jasmine and mint,

and resilience tied into boundless affection.

So just at dusk, when the filigree shadows

make a tapestry across the room,

such a ritual—both of us waltzing with the tea amidst time—

will help us trudge on in uncertainty

and leave our track in steam, love, and glee.

And what goes into a heart's gladness?

For mint does hold swirling laughter

and warmth in the jasmine bloom.

Calm is within the cradle of chamomile,

with seismic charts of memories shared

that brighten every sip and every soul.