A Cup Half Full

I now fear nothing can be, enhanced
Now I have a cup-half-filled at last.
How can a water lilies reflection
Be more refined and crystal clear
Now's that, it's sitting up unapologetic
Above, pondering the still blue air
The cycle of life - isn't it prophetic
We live; we die, in poetic states of abjection.
And our, lust is an additional stratosphere
Like flower stalks stretching to Apollo
Likewise, we're a submerged waterlily,
I guess all it wants to do, then is to follow
These cups & saucers brim too full, spilling over
And like her not too shabbily either.

Thursday, January 14, 2016
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