A poem about tea

The first sip holds the hint
That the smell will bring, a taste.
The parfume of the trees
And the water of mountain streams.

The second, stronger still
Has the earth, the sun and heat
All, bound in leaves
Opening in a fluid dance

The third brings all.
The colors of Camelia
Her leaves like lips
Whispers only the tongue can taste.

Lastly comes the sweet embrace
Of a warmth long lost
As the tea has told it's tale
And now you have to tell me yours.