Fine China Cup (poem #423)

A fine china cup,

only a few centuries old,

sits and waits for a drinker

or some tea. Dust gathers,

and time begins to erode,

the neglected fine china cup

chips, and cracks begin chiseling

its body. Empty of tea, and no

drinker in sight.


 

Thank you for reading!

 

-Alina

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