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The Tea Cup

H.Sanbika is medically oriented by degree though she's not practicing it currently, Her passion on scribbling thoughts dragged her here.

“She awaits the rain like a writer embraces metaphors,

A drizzle isn't for the child who dances in the storm.

Of rain that washes away the petrichor it brings,

A downpour of a hail of bullets, and she calls it spring.”

― Sanhita Baruah, The Farewell and other poems


The Tea Cup

You walked down the stairs

Flowers in hand and dressed to your best

You look inspired with those dazzling eyes

I was your maid

Serving your guest

She sits in the lawn

Waiting for you

As I came near

The tea was spilled

Broken pieces lay on the floor

I was deeply cut

By the view I saw

You held her hand

And slipped the band

I picked the pieces so mindlessly

Drops of blood paints the floor

You saw and asked,

"Are you alright?"

I smiled and nod

But as I turned back

Drops of tears fell down my eyes

© 2017 Himeko Sanbika

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