Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
The cupped hands that hold fresh water
clear and cold from the stream
dripping with the gift of life
and special to each one of us
our personalised cup
that lifts the quenching liquid
sweet and limpid
to our lips.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 02.20.24
Prompt: Write a poem about a cup.
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