the delicate tea cups sit on a shelf

dreaming delightful thoughts of being filled

waiting upon the day to soak in their sweet promises

 

one by one, year after year

the cups crash unto the floor

shattering into hundreds of pieces

leaving an unrecognizable pattern on the floor

too tired and distraught to sweep up the fragments

a graveyard of wishes for me to mourn

 

the last cup sits upon the shelf

teetering

and all i can do is hold my breath

whispering a silent prayer that this one will remain.

 

 

~ wendi is the author of two books, you can view them here.

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