The Cracked Teacup

A web of cracks across my skin,

A chip where once a rose had been.

I held warm tea, a friend so true,

Now whispers of the past peek through.

My handle, smooth from countless sips,

Remembers laughter on your lips.

Conversations steamed and swirled,

Secrets shared, a world unfurled.

Though some may see a broken thing,

I hold the joy that memories bring.

The sunlit mornings, evenings deep,

Each sip a promise we would keep.

So fill me not with water's flow,

But with the warmth of years ago.

For though I'm flawed, I'm cherished still,

A cracked teacup, on memory's hill.