"forgotten"

a cup sits lonely on the table unused,

filled with water to offer to someone's lips, someone.

and for days it sits and gathers dust.

and for weeks,

and for months,

and for years,

until one day comes a man and sits down,

dressed in tattered cotton,

beaten by men and the weather,

abandoned,

thirsty, forgotten...

drinks of the forgotten,

to their fulfillment