Two cups

I served my love two cups.
She covered her ears and ran away.
Seven I dropped outside her door—
she wrote me an email,
"Don't call me no more."

I wished my love a star,
broke her fingers in a wheel,
and gobbling up the tips,
I picked for her three tulips.

Now, I wait
and wait
and wait and wait and wait
for Maia's smile
for Grace's touch.
I wait for Catalina's call,
for I have given all.

July 2021