Beautiful Cups
In cafes bustling, amid the morning hush,
Awake the whispers of the paper cups' rush.
Folded vessels, cradling liquid gold,
Stories untold, in their silent hold.
In hues of morning, they gleam and shine,
Echoing the rhythm of coffee divine.
Each cup a canvas, a blank slate to fill,
With tales of sunrise, and dreams to instill.
From hands that grasp in the chilly air,
To lips that savor, their warmth to share,
Paper cups dance in the morning light,
Carriers of comfort, in the midst of the fight.
They travel far, these vessels of grace,
In journeys short, to some distant place.
Through bustling streets and quiet nooks,
They carry whispers of forgotten books.
In their humble form, a tale is spun,
Of journeys taken, and battles won.
Through every sip, a moment’s grace,
A fleeting glimpse of a familiar face.
Oh, paper cups, with your stories untold,
In your silent embrace, our secrets unfold.
A vessel of solace, a companion in strife,
In your fleeting presence, we find life.
