Tea: Oh, poetess. I enjoy being your muse but I cannot stay. As you are aware.
Me: “Why? Why do you leave me sooner than my thought?”
Tea: Because I am happening till the time I am hot. And you drink me sooner than one can expect.
Me: “You know I was thinking about dressing our togetherness in words.”
Tea: You are meant to make anything to be your muse. I know not how words even like you.
Me: “Hey, this is rude. Words like me this is why I enjoying undressing thoughts.”
Tea: Better ask words if they do. I do not think they even come to you at times.
Me: “Ah, yes. I experience writers block every week. Adding to it the pandemic…”
Tea: Not the pandemic again. It is an excuse. Go take a bath at least.
Me: “I am not leaving you.”
Tea: What is left of me for you to stay?
Me: “The last drop.”
Tea: The one to whom you are conversing is now sticking to the cup. First it was coffee, then me and your poetry.
My last conversation with Ginger Tea and I went to bath after this. Thinking of shifting to green tea for some months. She will surely like to be my muse, I assume.
Kritika
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