independent poem-3 ,Hoshi

A cup of tea

Benjamin said the story teller is dying

So I called for a doctor, after I got the news

But there was the storyteller sitting on

his porch, he looked well and alive.

He invited me for a cup of tea

‘These tea leaves are from china,

Did you know they can cure arthritis?’

And on he went singing the history of tea

His wrinkled hands meticulously

Poured hot water into the tea pot

And the aroma of freshly brewed tea filled

my nostrils, sending a mild warmth my way.

That evening I learnt the right temperature

for brewing black tea, emperors who drank it

Its properties, which were many in number,

Far too much for me to remember

After we finished a good pot of tea

And stories of many courtesans

I left with a promise to return tomorrow

We planned to drink blooming tea

That Night Benjamin knocked on my door

Saying ‘I told you the story teller was dying’

The news was that he passed in his sleep

He was smiling, so it must have been peaceful

I was sad, but there nothing much to say

All I could do was bury him, wishing him peace

But every-time I brew a cup of tea, I wonder

What is the history of blooming tea?