Dainty teacups make me anxious.
There I said it.
I’d drink tea out of enormous mugs,
And Styrofoam cups,
With tea tags dangling
Like tiny ornaments.
But tea cups.
Ah, no.
They don’t help much.
There’s always the possibility
Of the precious china shattering,
The unamendable beauty
Of these fragile handled bowls.
And all that clatter.
Oh! That clatter.
So much like a tiny heart.
So much amiss.
Clattering and dainty,
Fragile yet loud.
And to be handled with care...
-Momina.
