To the Urn that Holds my Happiness
Precious blues and royal suns,
Don't you love what you've become?
Your mother is my mother too.
If mommy dearest only knew
The secret kept beneath your lid...
A treasure I have gained and hid.
A twist, a turn, and then we'll learn
Your contents and then we'll discern
How much tonight. Turn off the light
And watch the fire slowly burn.
The night seems brighter as we teach
Ourselves things we never could have
Fathomed otherwise. The proverbial bleach
Clears our weary brains of kinks
Between our gears. My partner laughs
As she toys with a thought.
No noise will be sought except for
The sound of merriment.
The rhyme scheme, once dull,
Runs rampant like our imaginations,
Ripe with proliferation of new ideas.
Time seems to annul itself,
Out of our reach. All this occurs
From opening you, urn.
Then sleep comes.
And the feeling is gone, ne'er to return.
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