cup o tea

it's freezing inside my skin. i grab the kettle, pour out the old stagnent water from last week. turn on the faucet, fill the kettle and turn towards the stove. reaching to the very top shelf of the cabinet where my favorite snowman mug waits, my sweater revealing cold skin. sugar. something sweet to counter the bitter tea leaves. not too much, never too much. too sweet never got anyone anywhere good. the tea bags each individually wrapped inside this brown cardboard box. i carefully tear, revealing the aroma of places never been and time wasted on cold drinks or empty conversation, or in most cases, both. the kettle sizzles and i reach for the handle. i pour warmth and cup it in my hands, slowly bringing the steaming water to my lips. warmth is all i crave. i find it in tea. where do you find it?