In the time it takes to fly

From London to France,

I stroll around my village, here.

I’m not getting anywhere in my wanderings,

But zero displacement carries me

Back to some tea that’s been 

Steeping, all this time.

It’s strong, lukewarm,

Just like I want it to be.

It has no qualms to share,

No excuses to offer,

And none are necessary.

I find no shortcomings in it,

Nor it in me.

Now that’s what I call good company.

-jenn