It’s a little like drinking the scent of the forest ground as it wafts up in the early morning. That’s overly poetic, but it’s what I like about white tea—that hint of still growing, still in the earth bitterness. This has bright overtones making it delicious even unsweetened.

Login or sign up to leave a comment.

People who liked this

Login or sign up to leave a comment.



I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun’s way, hidden apart;
In a softer bed then the soft white snow’s is,
Under the roses I hid my heart.

In the world of dreams I have chosen my part,
To sleep for a season and hear no word
Of true love’s truth or of light love’s art,
Only the song of a secret bird.



Following These People

Moderator Tools

Mark as Spammer