Poetic Interlude XVIII

Chamomile tea, yes?

I know I appear to you as the moon,

Which is quite clever of me,

Or my teas and tinctures and tonics,

To trick you into love and loyalty.

Chamomile tea, no?

It's soothing to the nerves, the mind,

And yours is quite clearly following me,

Please tell it to heel.

I cannot work when it is treeing me.

Lemongrass, perhaps?

Your eyes are leaking admiration,

Which is nice, but dirtying my floor.

I cannot look directly at you,

Which hinders prescription, sorry.

Lemongrass? Am I wrong?

Do you even want tea?

I think you came here to ask questions,

And they sit there, unasked,

In your three covered jars.

Peppermint.

I can get you one cup -

Then you have to leave.

I do not currently have the kind of heart

That can find new ways of learning love.