Friday, January 26, 2018

A morning, unusually chilling
A cup of hot tea, steaming
Kept by the window
A bit too early to sip on

The water is liberated
As it leaves the cup vaporized
Fogs the glass pane
Fogs the view of the fog outside

The clouds are darker today
But what do I know?
The world outside is blurry
So exhilaratingly murky

A gentle swipe cleans off the resting moisture
The world outside, hauntingly forsaken
The trees are naked
The ground is leaf-laden

Each leaf, rusty brown
Every tree, as if missing its crown
The fog clears like the vapors off the cup
And the universe is awakened by a loud slurp

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