The Third Eye

My mother had a third eye in her forehead,
but it was an eye that I couldn’t see.
She told fortunes to anyone who asked her
from the tea leaves of drained cup of tea.

The people thought my mum was marvellous
because what she said always came true,
but unfortunately she no longer reads tea leaves,
because tea bags leave no residue.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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