Ode to a Travel Mug

Oh travel mug, my shiny cup
I love you when you are filled up
with coffee and a little cream
the flavour like a favourite dream
and when your space is filled with drink
I sip from you to help me think
and with your lid, if you should tip
you do not even spill one drip
but when I drink the last drop down
I look at you and with a frown
say “why can’t you be still full up
you’re empty, so I hate you, cup!”

~~

this is a response to NaPoWriMo‘s prompt: The Poetics of Space – where we are invited to write about the emotional response to a small confined space that has meaning to us. This made me think of the inside of my travel mug and how I feel when it is either full or empty (my emotions might be exaggerated slightly…but not by much)

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