Chipped Mug

Old chipped Mug
Discarded behind a clay studio
Your handle jagged and sharp
Your rim an unsightly gash
What hands would dare hold you?
What lips would dare kiss you?

Yet soil found place in you still
As did a seed from a birds droppings
As did roots, now brimming with life
As did a flower, it's petals now leaning down
To place upon you a grateful kiss

How could anyone have given you
such a perfect purpose?