This Cup
Her cup packed in a dress, my mother wore;
whose years foregone, the valued cup and garb
were left to me in care, forevermore.
The frock, I wear in diner chair by harbor
light, with cup, tonight; I sit and think
how love was sterling when she squeezed my hand
through family tales galore! For now, I drink
tinged tender warmth, and listen to the band
with her green grail clutched in my grip, where urbane
words flow down my pen. This cup, a din
of thunders in the night, pours past its earthen
mouth, now into mine. I dine, till when?
A child, this cup, snugged in lamenting palms;
this cup of tears, who knew her soothing psalms.
whose years foregone, the valued cup and garb
were left to me in care, forevermore.
The frock, I wear in diner chair by harbor
light, with cup, tonight; I sit and think
how love was sterling when she squeezed my hand
through family tales galore! For now, I drink
tinged tender warmth, and listen to the band
with her green grail clutched in my grip, where urbane
words flow down my pen. This cup, a din
of thunders in the night, pours past its earthen
mouth, now into mine. I dine, till when?
A child, this cup, snugged in lamenting palms;
this cup of tears, who knew her soothing psalms.
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