Drinking Tea (poetry)

home was here
a place with many laughs
memories live in the varnish of each chair
the place is the same
the sun still delicately pierces the earth
the air still smells sweet
that birdsong which we happily would whistle along too
is still gently trilling
this very moment
every hand ever touched
every eyes ever met
every lips ever touched
have disappeared
drinking tea
a new habit
the sign of change
before there was no tea
today there is tea
things change
not better
not worse
life as a dream
man only interpreters
tea is fine
but it is different
whistling that same old song
that lovely birdsong
what has changed?
something has changed.
was there a tree there?
what was the name of the old gardener?
is this man the same as the old?

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