My Tea Is Getting Cold Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

This black cloud of thought
Veers through deep recesses of life

Scanning the dark corners
It finds nothing but a stream of tears
Flowing thick and salty

Sometimes butterflies do visit
But get trapped in its twisted passages
Only to get suffocated and die

Little flowers bloom in cracks
No one comes to savor colors and scents

I look at the creeper
Surviving my peccadilloes
Rising smoothly on the walls
Giving me air with its small leaves

I open the newspapers
My tea is getting cold