THE CUPS SAGA
He picks at me for all my cups
And feels the need to count them up.
And dares me to "throw them away"
But these are cups I use each day.
Each time he comes - off goes a bell.
About my cups, oh, I can tell.
At times the battle runs amok;
Then he concedes he's out of luck.
Cups 1- and 2 - and 3 - and 4.
In counting, there are nine cups more.
Oh, yes, he thinks I am obsessed,
And claims there're cups all o'er my desk.
But I've written an expose
To share with him sometime today.
Explaining what each cup is for
In hopes of curing the 'Cups' war.
__________
Note: Light verse. Thought I'd make light of a fun, nonetheless, true situation.
© 2019 Walterrean Salley
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
But which cups are empty, which cups are full? Which cups for the rum, which cups for the gruel? If I count correct, there should be thirteen, More than a dozen, enough for a team, Each one awaiting their name to be called, So common cups, get out there, let's play ball! Just be careful that you dont get chipped or Walterrean Sally might get (just a little) miffed. The End Hi Sally long time no talk to hope all is well. I enjoyed the cup poem, going to fill mine now, see ya!