This is the tenth poem in a series of poems that explore what the commonplace objects in a student’s life would say if they underwent an Enid Blyton-esque change overnight, and could speak.
Long before my white had faded,
A simpler time when I was not yet jaded,
When my shining armour had not been traded
For a duller hue of motley grey;
A time when my insides weren’t streaked with black,
And when I sat snug and safe on a rack,
My torso gleaming with no cracks,
Until I was whisked away;
To a faraway land of unknown adventure
Where I met other coffee mugs – some with dentures,
Some with coats of peasant red,
And others of sterling silver,
Where my days began at the crack of dawn
And I’d find myself seated on the lawn
Filled to the brim to keep away yawns,
My contents easily quiver;
For I tell them of the tales of yore
Of my father and forefathers and their folklore
Of how they bore beverages until sore –
I must adjust my monocle here,
For no matter the rust and wear and tear
On this battered body, for want of care,
I shall dutifully serve until my share
Is done, and the dumpster awaits near.