A Storm In a Teacup

The broken teacup sits sadly on the garden table Wearing tarnished stains and hardened sugar decorating the sides There's a bracken coloured moss that's resting at the bottom Saddened by the wastefulness and ready for the bin The half empty teacup sits regretfully on the bedside table It wears a scarlet lipstick kiss that lays upon the lip A hand print caresses the curved handle and the teaspoon lays in the saucer Saddened by the coldness and wishing it were full The cup of tea sits proudly on the table Full to brimming and letting off a fragrant steam Luring with a hot temptation and a desire to be drunk With soft white crystals that sweeten on the tongue But saddened by the emptiness that surely comes