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Cupped Inspiration The flowered form And my cup with tea, All have purpose Any fool can see. A special fool, Views hidden tools, In cups of tea, And steaming molecules. When the pen is dry, And rivered words stall, The tea cup answers, The poor poets call. “Write about me, Give me some ink, Your readers will smirk, With no cause to think.” Old tea stained cup, You’re point is made. No vestige of riddle, Shall mark this page. Thanks for the nudge, The muddies now clear. Old friends conspire, In words played here. |
Additional Notes:
Please forgive my rivered and muddies.
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