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