Teacup
Teacup
A teacup filled with air.
Strong dark wooden table.
Dimmed lights.
They are just standing there.
A crack runs down the side of it.
It is easy to spot.
No abuse just allot of use.
The teacup is still hot.
Not one sound not even is single.
No living material.
All is resting in peace.
Time stopped in a freeze.
Reacties op dit gedicht
| lady-manja: | Maandag, maart 22, 2004 18:51 |
| kende hem al maar hij blijft mooi...zeker nu ik de achterliggende gedachte ken..triest.. xxx |
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Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Cappy | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: christina | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 22 maart 2004 | ||
| Thema's: | ||