An Ode to My Mug

Many cherished memories stay with me, mug, though you can not. 

I remember our times of laughter, our times of sorrow. The time spent exploring together, rolling down a hill, breaking my arm, and you, dear old mug, only you, there to comfort me as I winced down a steep incline in the middle of the night. We were convinced coyotes were following us, which turned out to be true. 

I remember as we swan across rivers, leaped over chasms, and sang merry rounds (though, I admit old chap, your part was always a bit weak), and how you so tenderly cared for my many coyote bites in the hospital. And, oh, I fondly remember what style you had. With your flower patterned china, and odd rubber top. But it was your odd rubber top, old mug. For all these things I mourn your loss. But through these tears I will fondly remember our thrilling adventures. Rest in peace, good old friend. Rest in peace.