The Cup.

As mysterious as a cup can be, in the middle of a forest far away from the sea,
i walk by this house, in perfect harmony next to a tree.
Many stories i visualize when a bike eaten by earth i reach.
Water dropping sound comes to my ears, as a river flows next to me.
several mud steps later, i take my first peek in this poetic house.
darkness, loneliness and freedom i feel,
no water, no light, no nothing.
A rotten wooden house getting back to its roots of becoming a tree.
everything is overgrown, since no one has been living in it,
nature has invited herself in.
Not more than a table the darkness lets me see,
suddenly a strain of light from the cealing comes in,
and a perfect in touch cup lets me see
as mysterious as it might seem. This cup has been giving me dreams.