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Hollow Friend
An Ode to thee,
My hollow friend.
I love your shape,
You fit comfortably in my hand.
You’re with me every morning,
Even though I’m feeling dim.
I fill you up,
Sometimes past the rim.
I fill you up,
And steam pores out.
Sometimes I trip,
And you splatter all about.
You’re perfect to me,
Even with your jaggy chip,
Although I’d be grateful when taking a sip,
That I would not be in danger,
Of cutting my lip.
When I’m cold,
You always make me warm.
I’d take you with me,
But by then,
Your hot nectar is already,
Gone.
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