Murder

The morning greets me as it always does, with magic.
The air, the birds, the sun, the peach blossoms.
They call to me like a siren's song.
I became so lost from my tea, so quickly.

I went back to the kitchen from the other side,
but I was locked out from the mud room door,
I saw my sad sad tea, getting boiled alive,
& I saw my reflection in the window, too late to save it.