Can you give me feedback on this poem?

I wrote a poem about making tea, and I just don't have a good ear for poetry. This might be dumb and it might be great and I just haven't the slightest idea. Feedback? Thoughts?

I watch the bitter liquid steam

And slowly drift into a dream

Where the rising warmth is not

The water boiling in the pot

But is instead your hand on mine.

Then I hear the kettle scream

And I awaken from my dream

Alone, except for warm caffeine.