It takes years of pondering to find the right cup;

the right shape and weight, the pattern, the handle.

It is not just a drinking vessel

It is a portal to a world of relaxation.

Maybe I’m wrong and it is just a cup

but I’d be lost without my favourite.

She has picked me up when I’ve felt alone

even with her chipped rim

she makes the perfect brew.

As I caress her, I know she won’t let me down.

It was another jealous cup that chipped her

in the washing up bowl, trying to win my attention.

Maybe I should love all my cups the same

but I’d be lost without my favourite.