Magic Coffee Cup

Magic Coffee Cup

A Poem by Foxemerald

Magic Coffee Cup ~

There was some strange hanging glob-
on the side of my left handle,
making my coffee mug drip,
out its sides, and let loose its dark, smooth liquid-
until it fell into my lap-
Via spiraling rivulets,
that oozed between my legs and underneath the wet patch. 
I turned the cup around in my hands idly-
Ignoring my job, for the umpteenth time that day,
before I heard an unexpected voice. 
and looked down into my lap sharply. 
'Work, work, work, sighed the cup,
that's all I ever do these days,
nobody ever gives a damn about how hard I labor-
Only these coffee creams, and messy oils.' 

I couldn't find a thing to say to the mug,
So I placed it back over the counter, gently,
and tried very hard not to move it-
Pushing all of my papers and items back . . . 
to keep it in an uncluttered place, high upon the topmost shelf,
so that nothing and no one would threaten-
And then stood back. 
To critically monitor the viewpoint-

So well . . .
It didn't speak again that day to me, 
Or in any of the days pass by us, 
But from that moment,
I knew that my cup was a friend, 
And decided that from then on that I would stir it, but once, when I made coffee . . . 
So that it would retain its keen abilities. 

And I never complained at work after that, 
Because there was magic in those office walls.
And often wondered if my employer knew, that-
The cutlery in the pantry, for the hired staff,
was working in consistent overtime . . .
Jacking up the paycheck.

© 2017 Foxemerald

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Added on August 2, 2017
Last Updated on August 2, 2017




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