Stopping by the tea stop
Stopping by the Tea Shop:
My driver gives his squeaky throat a shake,
Asks if its tea time.
It's 0030 I see the wood lit fire,
My imagination is cold.
The tea was warm,
My driver shook his head,
Said tea was too much,
I retorted halve it,
He looked askance,
tiger, said I,
Throw what you can't sip.
I heard his mental bell shake,
On my next sip I found a fly,
Dead and belly up,
In the embrace of my tea cup.
I told him,
Anwar, I will drink the other,
Half, of your tea,
You were right,
Hardik Mahesh Vaidya.
If Sir Robert Frost would have written this instead of stopping by the woods on a snowy evening, literature would have died.
Written while being driven in the car near Samakhali Kutch 0057 hrs.
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