Warm Tea

I stare blankly at the white sheets of my notebook
Watching the ink from my pen as it bleeds

I put the pen down slowly beside the notebook
And lay my back down the coach from where I sit

Imagining a guitar strumming from the background
I close my eyes to feel the wind as it blows

I start to hum to a familiar song I always sing
And reach out to the warm tea in front of me

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