The Lament of a Chipped Mug

Once upon a time, I was a glossy, one-piece

Mug, made of China clay; but the destiny

Caused a dent into my flourishing lifestyle;

I was always handled with care and treated

With ample love and affection being a Favourite of all due to my beautiful exterior; Now, my future is hanging in balance;

I am waiting for the new mugs

To replace me forever;

Very soon, I will be forgotten by everybody;

No Hall of Fame exists inside the house

Of my masters, where I could find solace

By seeing the familiar faces smiling, rueing

Or quarreling with each-other like temporary

Foes; I will also miss the hullabaloo of the Wedding season, and the loud wailings of

The family after the departure of a loved soul;

But I was not a dumb-doll cup of tea, I have

Witnessed the breaks and breaches in the

Blooming relationships on the slightest Pretexts; I also know that no tailor or cobbler,

Or anybody can mend such breaches; still,

I am nursing a false hope that the soft touch

Of an invisible hand will apply a much-needed

Balm and fill up the breaches on my polished

And shining outward face; but I should know

That daydreaming comes natural only to Human beings, it is not the forte of inanimate

Things like me;

Thus, I acknowledge humbly the chinks in

My armour; I bear no grudge against Anybody; I wish to rest in peace, lost forever,

In the yellowing pages of family history.