Loose Leaf

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As we sip, the tea leaves today are the same leaves that fall

between each time we meet

They seal together like a mug to a crevice of lip

The colours are sieved away into sepia water

Skimmed off to reach the brewed moments

of late-night walks where the foxes that stalk are like us

that talk, trying to catch up in this place 

counting the lingering hours upon our fingers

as the huffing kettle cools down to piled up mugs 

Mug handles we once gripped

turn to door handles shutting

in a place where we used to sit