Poem- A Cup of Tea!!

I am sipping a cup of tea
from the foothills
of the Himalayas.
More than a century ago
Sons of the soil planted it.
Nurtured as their own kids
Sweat from their forehead
Buried their hopes and desires
to give their kids a better life
I heard they are still digging
Their land for a lost identity.
Every morning, the toy train’s
steam whistle recalls
the queen of the hills
Their forefathers’ dreams,
their pains and the screams.
only the planters know
the pain of the thorn.
Their dreams are still
filtered as the tea leaf
sold globally as a fair trade
every sip of the tea
I can clearly smell
their sweats and tears.

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