In my hands, a humble, sturdy friend,
A gentle warmth that seems to mend,
With whispers of mornings soft and slow,
And tales of dawn’s gentle, amber glow.
Its rim holds memories, sips of grace,
Moments of pause in a busy chase,
Silent comfort in a crowded room,
A steady light through fleeting gloom.
It’s chipped and worn, yet strong it stands,
A testament to gentle hands,
That lift it up, day after day,
As worries melt and fade away.
Oh, coffee mug, with stories deep,
In you, my quiet secrets keep,
A faithful cup, my dawn's embrace,
In every sip, a peaceful place.
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