And, aching, pace the smallest space I may.
Some moments it's all I can do to hold
A mug of tea. When such times come my way
I dote especially on this one here,
Made just for me by one who loved me well,
But didn't know he'd done so, 'til by mere
And funny chance, I saw it, gave a yell
Of praise and picked it up. It fit my hands
Precisely; all its gnurls and furrows placed
Just where my fingers reach - just as if planned
For me. And, too, though it is plainly based
On any mug, it feels like it was found
Instead of made. I'll e'er keep it around.