Hibiscus Berry Tea

Hibiscus Berry Tea - Tatum White (Alexander W. Dreyfoos School of the Arts, Twelfth Grade)

Cupping the kettle,

hot handle burning in my palm,

I dip the spout down

and pour boiling water over my tea bag.

The aroma of hibiscus and berry

steams, light pink droplets

condensing on the kettle’s sides,

and dripping down in floral trails.

It wafts through the kitchen past

stacks of dirty dishes in the sink,

day old rice sitting in a rice cooker,

scraps of plaster chipping from the ceiling.

The apartment is small and fragile

like a matchbox.

A single bedroom and kitchenette

converted to home two of us–

between snow days and all-nighters.

Snores permeating through walls,

cold seeping in during Winter,

salmon wafting from flights down,

spreading through the room,

mingling with tangy florals and tea leaves.

We made it work,

ate only Maruchan and cheap takeout

at the end of each month.

We stuffed towels under the door

during the rainy season,

left my bed cold and

cuddled under your blankets when

December’s chill came through.

Gilmore Girls sang from your laptop,

the fractured screen reflecting

your head rested on my shoulder,

black hair draped over my sweater.

Not even the clamor of construction

could interrupt us.

And even now in late spring,

hibiscus berry tea cooling in my snowflake mug,

I miss the sleepless nights spent

below freezing,

shivering through our laughter.

But you bloomed faster than the landlord

could fix our broken home,

the frost on our windows melting and

and the forget-me-not we planted

late February budding through wet soil.

And as the temperature rises and the seasons change,

I’m still cold at night.

We used to complain about our neighbors

and fantasize about our futures

in penthouses with proper heaters,

but I never expected you

to grow up and leave so soon,

while I’m stuck craving the feeling

of Netflix past midnight,

popcorn and hibiscus tea substituting

the lack of your warmth