A Cup Runneth Over
The well has not gone dry,
less frequented maybe
by both the drawers and
the occasional passersby.
The stones are loose;
between them, mortar dissolves-
by clement or contrary
weather on seasonal cue.
The vessel is parched
and longs for its lover
once lowered by pulley
its rope frayed with disuse.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 19th, 2026 05:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Kevin Hulme
- In collections: Archival file, reworked prior.
Offline)
Comments5
A splendid metaphor Cryptic to me it speaks of the capacity to give that remains but the deterioration that comes with disuse and passing of time. As we grow older we find it more and more difficult to contribute and give as we once did and those we once helped come less frequently appreciating less what we have to offer. A fave my friend
Most appreciated reading dear friend 🙏🏻🕊️
You are very welcome my friend
A fine write my friend
Thanks Norman🙏🏻🕊️
most welcome
Yes, I tried to get water from that well. The rope was frayed from disuse, and snapped off when I lowered the bucket. There was water in there as I heard a splosh! lol. You telling porkies? Fido asks me. lol.
Might have saved Jack and Jill an uphill climb. 🧗🤣🙏🏻🕊️
What a beautifully wistful piece, my friend. Nothing essential has disappeared, yet abandonment has weakened every means of reaching it. The longing here feels creative, relational, and spiritual all at once. Excellent write, Rik. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
The idea of abandonment is very drawing here, Tittu. Thanks immensely🙏🏻🕊️
This could also be a Person that is constantly overlooked, ignored. But still capable of Contributing to Someone and life.
A good Write.
Could very well be! Many thanks Kevin 🙏🏻🕊️
My Pleasure.
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