In honour of tea in the morning

Cups of tea, console consistently.
Even better big stewed steaming mugs
that prods and pokes life into prone forms.

Ritual morning moans of who to make,
who to brave touched toe to cold floor first,
ends wife winning whines that too tired.

Curses cursed and coverings cast aside
with grudging grind of teeth our noble
hero of the hour heaves up bravely.

Fingers fidget around for glasses
so the day dances to blinking eyes.
as floor flailed for cleanest cast-offs.

Stairs stumbled down to cold kitchen hell
but radio homage to Homer
restores cheer as kettle’s cheeky call
allows algebraic alchemy.

Mugs in handsome hand our hero walks
with proud princely poise bearing towers
of sumptuous life licking liquor
to rumbling roars of room sized snores.