When the Dogs Bite: 30th August 2024

sunshiny

perfect day for a walk

birthday wishes

I was raised on tepid black tea,

muddy brown with the hard skin

of full cream milk floating on top;

two sugars, never drink the last bit

because of the tea leaves.

Mum swore the old leaves kept the hydrangea pink;

Dad claimed it blue;

I never argued either way,

knowing it was the soil's acidity

that determined the colour,

and our cold tea leaves were a perfect ph seven

because I'd tested them with litmus paper.

When the Dogs Bite