A cup of tea early in the morning
Is something I always love taking
While I lie abed
My mother makes it ready on the table

With some warm toasts of butter
Toasts, you know, I like the most
As in my childhood
When I was not feeling good
My siblings would bake the buttered bread
Inside the hearth and my mouth waters there

I would cry out for a piece, but
They would heal me by their scary glances
And started to sob under some hope
To be well very soon

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Now as the days have passed by
And the tastes does change by chance
My yearnings for the morning toasts
With a cup of ‘Kashir Nun Chai’
Is still there in my daily routine
And I, like some peckish man wait
And wait for the morning to come.

Editor's Note

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