The Steam From Tea

Fathom the intangible and open up your locket

For it speaks in riddles whilst plugged in a socket

Inside my pocket I search low for my wallet

A leather case with nothing but receipts, plastic and 76 pence

A photograph of times fonder that leaves me feeling warm is all I was looking for

but instead left with the smell of cows skin on my palm

And a burden clenched in my left fist

Seek the things that help us breathe

For all I need is the steam from tea

That’ll do for me