HOME HORIZON

Mornings are always cold
The horizon is a vapor of gold
Sometimes it's white as snow
On Monday it may glow
The look always changes
But the smell is of ages

As the wind blows
Right to left or across
Sometimes it's calm
If not cold, a little warm
Something about the smell
It's a mystery not easy to spell

Cocks always crow
When new leaves grow
On top of trees birds are chanting
The old men must be chatting

About the sweetness in their cups
And the beauty of the hill curves

What about the aged smell?
A mystery not easy to smell
The heavenly morning's
At this beautiful highlands
Its a place you should be
If it's hard,then try to see

It's only the leaves that grow
At sunrise the new must glow

As the cocks are crowing
Kids alone in the house crawling
All with the ability of walking
In plantations working

We pick only those that glow 
When they start to grow 
the first tea of the season
Made for a good reason
using only the fresh young leaves
It is highly prized for its delicate

Fresh flavor bright green color
Harvesters carefully manage
To pluck the tender buds
By women and Children no damage
Gentle touch and small hands
Adept at this painstaking process
Mid sunshine sweeps the fog
Kids run no time to jog
Field time is  now over
Sweet songs are sang
Behind women with "matingog"

Precious buds they bring

The truth told by most
It's s all about the thoughts
crawling in and out of our heads.
In the delicately painted highlands
Spilling out a perfect pattern
A suprise unreadable to all but the blind

Addiction to colorless schemes.
of the bitter sweet taste
Lingering on our tongues
Uncurling to let out the truth.

The sufuria is now full.
How long has it been
The aroma is fragrant 

Thoughts and laughs are blending in
"Don't forget to stir.
otherwise it all goes down bitter
and the very last  bit
Will be too sweet to swallow"

Beyond the flavor of the leaves,

Thoughts inside the painted cups 
A taste betrayed against its will Cupful after cupful,
While the hours sneak away.
Struggles for more
With each sip no longer stay.

Hidden contents are uncovered

At first the tea is tasty.
It’s easily refilledIt just can’t last forever.

The pouring soon is stilled.

The last cup is too bitter!
The last word is same! 
The sufuria is now empty,
Till teatime comes again

.

WHAT ABOUT THE AGED SMELL? 

A mystery not easy to spell?
It's mystery
THE HEAVENLY MORNING'S 
AND THIS BEAUTIFUL HIGHLANDS 
ITS A PLACE YOU SHOULD BE
IF IT'S HARD,THEN TRY TO SEE