Poem, Poetry

Maggie Reed

Blue and White Cup

On the shelf in Granny’s bungalow in Jodhpur
part of the tea-service trembling in the earthquake,
sole survivor on the mantelpiece at Barton Vicarage.

You could swallow only two mouthfuls of tea
from this porcelain, straight-edged cup,
hold it with your little finger straight.

The keys it holds have lost their locks,
under the ivory elephant a safety pin,
a black and white photo of me, aged 14.

When I’m gone it will be found by the grandchildren,
dropped, perhaps, on the footpath, smashed,
scuffed under a bush, unearthed by developers,
collected by a writer with new stories to tell.

Maggie Reed, originally from Cumbria, now lives in the Malverns, Worcestershire. She has been published in The North magazine, Pennine PlatformOrbis, Three Drops from a Cauldron, Poetry Birmingham, Unpsychology, The Lake, The Beach Hut and Message in a Bottle, as well as numerous anthologies, including Places of Poetry.

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