The Morning Soliloquies

The Morning Soliloquies

A Poem by Pratik

There are days

When I add 

Drops of lavender 

In bone china cups

Watching the tea turn ivory 

In soft, cloudy swirls. 

As their last murky drops 

Trickle down 

To my morning tees,

Staining 

The collarbones,

I find

The amber mush 

Of the tea dregs

Staring 

Up at me 

With all the emptiness of Saturdays. 

And after 

Two seconds of eternity 

I’ll carry them, 

Lay them strewn 

In the fireclay basin

But I'd let the water flow 

Long after they're washed  

Hoping

The gurgles break into 

The April doldrums.  

© 2017 Pratik


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Added on April 26, 2017
Last Updated on April 26, 2017

Author

Pratik
Pratik

Raleigh, NC



About
Hello! I am Pratik Mukherjee from Calcutta, India - the city of Mother Teresa and the famous poet Tagore. My pen name is Aaran, a variant of the word 'Aran' and derived from the Aran Islands, a gro.. more..

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