Life of a tea

Sipping a hot cuppa \ I wonder
What might the tea have said to me
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Too young to remember when I was asunder
from my mother tree
They took me out, planted in black ground
and then on I was called tea

I sipped on nature, fresh dew and soil
and grew up green and lush
tender fingers than caressed me about
and as I danced they plucked me out

cut and dried I was left in ferment
....
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at this point I reach my limits of poetic inspiration so will leave it for you to finish.