Jan. 1, 2020


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