Full cup, proud and tall.
Water, waiting to be drunk,
stands atop my desk.
Clean? A grand idea!
Dust has accumulated
everywhere I look.
Moving this and that,
to reach the nooks and crannies,
cup is forgotten.
Although not for long
as, in wiping down the desk,
arm and cup do meet.
The cup pivots, shakes.
It wasn’t expecting this;
unsure what to do.
Momentarily,
anything is possible.
Hope reigns in splendor.
Time stops, holds its breath.
Hope starts to get anxious as
Fate unspools her thread.
Are the stars aligned
in our favor, just this once?
Alas, they are not.
The cup, balancing,
finally gives up and falls.
Full, proud, tall no more.
With her thread cut short,
Fate has offered no reprieve
from impending doom.
Time exhales again.
Hope sighs and wanders away,
slightly crestfallen.
Ice and water surge
across the surface of my
unsuspecting desk.
The deluge swamps all.
Paper and pens receive an
unexpected bath.
Most things are now wet
and have to be thrown away.
Soaked, they can’t be saved.
But all is not lost.
My proud cup has been refilled;
my desk is now clean.