ceramic mug

Ceramic mug sits untouched 

A ring begins to form

With teabag tucked beneath a swirl

Of darkened water forlorn 

Room temperature tepid

While she’s idle reminiscing 

A ruminator like excavator 

With straw brush in hand

Does not disturb the bones she wishes

To know why, they lie in her land 

Another examination ends 

Without an explanation 

She questions again how

She came to be in this situation

Believing the answer exists 

Somewhere in the clay 

She picks at each imperfection

Leading herself astray

Still the ceramic mug sits 

With ring now fully formed 

In her grip, out of her mind

In the past, time well worn

She isn’t here, she never is 

And the tea is undrinkable