As I take a gentle drink from my cup
Made from these weathered hands
I alone know this vessel
which contains the thirst for life
from which I pour.
Though, in the dry boroughs
of its dusty chamber
I long for my heart to awaken
And find a familiar dew
to beckon each day.
I know it's there
I can see it
in the faint markings
dancing along the rim
So easy to smudge from view.
JJ