Hot lemonade poem by Gingezel.

By Judi Suni Hall

Steam rises
fragrant with lemon and honey
I wrap my hands
around the hot mug
waiting for it to cool
enough for the first sip

I don't need hot lemonade
no scratchy throat, no cold
I need the comfort of childhood
of simple pleasures

In a while I will go listen
to the old crooners
who could weave a dream
with their voices
with flowing notes

I will drowse and dream
of old friends
blooming gardens
gentle sun

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