Ode To Tea

A hot cup of tea in the morning

Makes me come to life

Otherwise, the body feels like a big mass of jello.

Early morning,

Death couldn’t drag me out of my bed,

Even if it pleaded,

Only tea.

Under the covers, I feel like a king,

Immortal,

The moment I throw them away,

The world, quietly, malignantly waiting near the door,

Swoops and falls on my shoulders

Like an iron mantle,

To bear whose weight without protest,

I must drink tea.

A hot cup of tea

Is my ceramic hearth,

My urban bonfire,

By whose side, I tell myself old stories

And dry my soaked soul.