The worn plastic cup, once shiny and red
was a lifelong companion to thermos and Dad.
Filled to the brim, it’s cradled and held
promising joy to both body and soul.
The coffee, the aroma, all pleasures to behold
provide a break from the work of the day.
Cherished pleasures to be sure, that thermos provides
never far from Dad’s shop and his side.
Long trips, hard jobs, the striped thermos was there
an old, silent partner for years.
Filled reverently each morning with kindness and care
the old thermos was certainly loved.
The old yellow cork, not the original of course,
was proud protector of the coffee inside.
Worn, squeezed and nicked, by long years of use,
it kissed the gray silver glass rim.
Partners together, an intimate fit,
they performed a job well done.
To some, it’s a thermos, but not to those in the know
it’s a monument to Dad’s life and work.
Once cherished and loved, now retired and unused,
the old thermos sits empty and cold.
Art & Poetry by Patricia Walter 1998