As simple as a pot of tea

A friend and me
A pure privacy
The only annoying one
was a pot of tea
It was night and rain
pouring with hundreds of songs
A poem of Gheisar
in a hundred lines

When we were talking,
the tea was becoming
cold politely
It wasn’t angry
It didn’t complain
The tea stayed with us
that night patiently

Time passed and passed
These days again
we sit on the table
a friend and me
with the failed sorrows

Our world is virtual
What a pity!
Everyone crept one side
entertained and satisfied

We sit together
careless and free
but sometimes
the only Excuse is
a pot of tea


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