An Ode

AN ODE TO FIRST FLUSH DARJEELING

as month and month passes by

the warm spring sun fills the sky

i wait in heated anticipation

as the fresh crop grows in the plantation

leaves picked and placed in wicker

your delicate sweet liquor

flavours filled with characters that are deep

i close my eyes in a twilight sleep

i awake on the day as it arrives
awaiting the taste that revives

i pour the nectar in a cup

and lean back as i feel myself soaking it up

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