Sad Tea Poem by Ghost Unseen

Sad Tea



The eyes empty, I stare persistently,
At the white and continuously high,
Toned pitch whistle of the dull electric kettle.
Such a blind and sad sigh.

I pour the boiling tea into the icy porcelain cup.
Hot water burning silently through the thin air,
Before sprinkling and mildly falling down,
As melancholic teardrops.

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