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

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.

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