Verveine Tea

Verveine Tea

She raised the fine porcelain tea cup
to her wizened lips, gently cooling
the hot tea by blowing steam
across the surface, a fine down
decorating her upper lip.
It was dusk in Neuchatel, dinner
eaten, dessert devoured, a small
cup of ice cream and time for
an evening infusion of Verveine
with Grandma before dishwashing,
reading and bedtime.
I never found Verveine here,
and somehow it seemed fitting
that it had to be sent by my
Swiss cousin, a limited stash
which always transports me
back to the evening dusk,
smelling the scent of flowers
wafting in from her garden
through the open French doorsto her balcony