Steam I see you rise.

Angry, fast, pushing, hurrying.

Quick grey whispers splurging out

dancing from the winnie the pooh mug

clashing, stiring this cold air.

The footsteps in the kitchen

are light; deliberately light

in the same way you come from the drink

made to sooth a throat.

Hot, tingling to touch

strong hands gripping tight

as you rise up, I wonder

if you may be pushing, hurrying

to get away from the heat

to seperate and cool

as you disappear from my eyes

turning to rain

raining down on the heat.