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Maria Mitea
Poems
May 2020
the cup
One little hand could not stop the cup from
dropping like a giant on the country wood floor,
“We need a cup factory in this home” I hear the voice of frowning walls
In a fraction of a second, I am the child that breaks the cup.
I want to hide when mother’s voice flows like a honey river
“Leave the child alone, don’t you see that the cup asks for mother’s love”
O, broken cup filled with mother's love
on the country wood floor.
You loved the child,
“darling take the broom and clean the floor,
when walking no one gets hurt.
Let me know if you do need help”
Her soft voice makes the broom dance and sing, and
the wood floor clean, shining back love to all children that ever broke
the cup,
all we need for lifelong doves is a broken cup
glued with mother's love
#cup
#mother
#love
#child
#walls
#hand
Written by
Maria Mitea
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