That Mug it Shattered

That mug it shattered.
The speckled browns spread across the tiles.
Whereas the darkened greys skated by the table.
I nearly wept as it fell.
As though it meant more than it did.
He made it, before my time.
It wasn’t a gift but a dusty note at the back of the cupboard.
That mug it shattered.
Containers were filling, with expensive stuffs.
But that mug it couldn’t come.
In a panic I tried to paste it together.
Alas it was useless and better off dead.
The trash consumed it, it was gone.
The mug I never blinked at, made me cry as it went away.
That mug it shattered.