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