Rituals of Comfort

I dipped the same teabag, flavor faded thin,

yet it clings to the water, as memories spin.

In the chipped ceramic mug, remnants hold fast,

conversations brewed deeply, like shadows cast.

I think of the laughter, the quiet talks shared,

each cup is a moment where warmth has been bared.

So simple, so daily, yet profound in its charm,

a ritual of comfort, a soothing, slow balm.