An old gray cup tarnished and jaded,
with a broken handle and color faded
bruised by fate of time, ‘twas
my paraphernalia since I was nine…
As every dawn broke into my bedroom
Mummy would brew steaming sweet tea
‘n serve me with biscuits and spoon…
I would then peck my golden cup with yawning lips
by ‘n by savoring sip by sip,
relishing the honeyed tea in a china cup alloyed clay
It made me fresh like a morning dew, the entire day…
Today,
far far away in a Coffee day…
Baskin with a regal cup brimming with tea.
I swallow the sip lost in a reverie,
of the morning, tea, spoon and cookie,
Of the cup full of life and my cuppycake MUMMY…
