Tendering the swirling dance an endless circling, spherical and not a spoonful too many. This sweetness, "Oh, the sweetness", sudden delight and not a dizzy heartbeat unsynced.
"Such-a rosy colour", rushing of chills as the sight of tea leaves once again settled in the teapot.
Server moving from one empty teacup to the next, "Whims are many, cosy top-up to date for a few".
September around the corner, warmer than winter, though sucrose leaves wouldn't the feintest sense of what stirred.
Helping to soothe, no time like the present, a gift of a moment. Not too sudden nor too soon it could become insanity.
Postpone a turn, return, the service from madness. Tender are the leaves upon shaded trees during the heat in September, not hot enough to burn from spilled caffeine as expressed in a "uhh-humm", particular kind of sunflower. A pressing fate to floral patterns for five, if not, six floors ahead of the table.
Tickle o'clock, it tickles and chimes, fortunate sings a light drop of luck.
Then o'clock inevitable chimes, finding what soothes sanity, then, unwind.
When the o'clock tickles return, insanity to the fortunate serves seconds by spares.
What spares an o'clock?
These tickled the chimes in-sane and sanity spared.
Stirred were the leaves in September trees, as it were framed a peculiar sunflower was witness. Unwinds difference is beyond rewinding.
The tea chimes tickled.
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