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
Topic(s) of this poem: sad
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8/28/2026 7:01:30 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
