Teacupification.

A scream rings high, in the quiet of the morning,
order is restored; temporary and fleeting.

The additional quirks of profession,
a broom, a mop, a rag, a pail;
waiting for their owners to recover them
and smear them with grime and dirt.
Sweeping hands busy away amidst short exchanges.

A scream rings high in the afternoon pedaling,
order is restored; temporary and fleeting.

The steady hum of machinery,
a caged beast bidding it's time;
waiting for its owner to spring its cage
and set its gears in motion.
Mechanical voices drone ahead amidst incessant chatters.

A scream rings high in the evening racing,
order is restored; temporary and fleeting.

The frenzied scramble of limbs,
a sling broken off a bag, a shirt on a bench
waiting for its owner to don it
and set its sleeves snugly on his shoulders.

Though it was a dreary day,
A thought forms i find
That this might just work out, come what may.