I hug this mug of tea
this sweet, black cherry tea
warmth seep through the porcelain
a wonderful sensation blooming
on my tongue
yet, that old fellow over there
with cowered eyes flecked with grey
a long peppered beard and hair so thick
he had a crane which endured all the sick
and came to poke his gnarled finger
at my cup of tea
dear, he said oh dear
and I tilted my head
not knowing what to be said
do you see what you have done to yourself?
I glance down down, at my fingers wrapped
around the cup of tea
the tea was not steaming, nor warmth presented
my fingers were merely frozen
and the sweetness was long forgotten
the pooling black cherry
I saw my face reflected
and I didn't recognize
the eyes blinking anymore
who gave you that tea?
the old wise man whispered
that tea was a gift to me
I whispered even quieter still
the tea have grown cold long ago
and you have been here huddled all alone
he haven't bothered an offer of hospitality
he left you to grow cold and still
and I realized, my hands shattered the porcelain
the tea dripped in a sludge
I kicked at the broken pieces
and began to spark a flame
and now why the bright orange flame?
the old man said and sat in the grass
I am kindling my own
I said with a fiery puff of breath
he chuckled and nodded
you have grown wiser
*with a rare undertone
starting to realize that some people who are not what I thought to be.
also striving to be more independent