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MY CHIPPED CUP

The Chipped Cup She sings a lullaby sweet Purchased on an impulse On Camden Street (A leap towards the hip?) Now her bottom is stained Reaping the harvest of Coffee- Noir. The fading blooms A pastel shade of rue. My chipped cup laments A bygone era. Though the future Is aromatic still- Jasmine and rose-hip brew.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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