Sugar in the tea

 

This morning, I find

I’ve missed sugar in my tea,

And yet, there was I,

Sipping it happily

 

What changed, I thought

The fog this winter morn?

A catharsis? An epiphany?

Was I newly born?

 

But then I found the reason,

An old, green shawl of mine,

Tattered in many places

Now left without a shine

 

And yet there was warmth

In all its memories past,

Each thread now a story

That will sing, everlast

 

From the rare Mumbai cold

To the days in Karur lost,

And then Paris on the other end

Draped in winter frost

 

From an island in the Pacific,

Where the Norfolk winds do rage,

To the Snowy Mountains white

Or Aotearoa on a page

 

From winters in Lucknow

To far the Himachal vales,

A Coffee back in Calcutta

Oh Just so many wonder tales!

 

The warmth of the winter shawl

Was sweet with memories

Transcending all to the cup I held,

In the early winter freeze

 

And the day was afloat already

In the sugar of the past

The tea had brewed an ocean song,

The mind was sailing fast

 

And in that whirlpool sea of dreams,

The past and present kiss,

Symbolic tea, a glue of sorts.

The Sugar, I don’t miss

 

The warm tea is over now,

I hug my shawl e’en more,

But the cup is not so empty yet –

The ship reaches no shore…

 

07^th May’ 2022

Written on a cold May Midnight, accompanied by a hot cup of tea and draped in -guess what – an old green shawl…