Tea Poem by Phil Soar
Tea
I constantly remind myself it means so little,
The random thoughts that pop into my head,
Like boiling water in somebody's kettle,
It all means nothing when you end up dead.
Like scolding water, poured on leaves encaptured,
In bags with holes, but small enough to hold,
The fragrance seeps into the cup of plenty,
But tastes like shit, when water has gone cold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/24/2024 2:08:17 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Thoughts are the main things in life. A good poem.