The Coffee Mug

If only she had gotten me that white coffee mug.
The one embossed with large black letters
Emphatically declaring that I was in fact the World’s Greatest Writer
Was it really too much to ask?
A simple gesture,
A mere token

Who knows?

Armed with such a coffee mug,
These words might not have diminished into obscurity,
Reeking of failure.
Rather they would have been heralded from mountain tops,
And preserved under glass for posterity.
Studied, loved and touted with enduring adulation.

I suppose that it wasn't to be...

Instead she made me this white coffee mug.
Hand painted in giddy and un-practiced brush strokes,
Innocently declaring that I am in fact the World’s Greatest Dad.
A simple gesture,
But no Mere token.

Her tiny hand guides me to the backyard to play.