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.
Monday, November 11, 2013
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9/19/2024 6:07:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
