the little teapot

there she sat

cracked and alone

alone she was

no friends to be found

her list sat crooked

its rim chipped

her paint peeling

covered in dust she was

lonely and forgotten

her children all gone

cream and sugar naught to be found

no hand to hold and pour

no company

no not one

she knows naught when one will appear

she waits

patently waiting

wishing

hoping

will they come home

Cher