Da Mojo Cup Poem by Doug Lane

In my youth
my cup ranneth over.
But now
my cup
runs dry.
Most mornings
I can't fill it
no matter
how I try.
Fill it?
I can't even
find it.
Can't even
FIND it.
Where HAS
that cup of mine
gone?
You'd think
I could
just buy another,
but that
wasn't just any cup,
that was my running over,
my overbrimming,
mojo cup.
The cup
that always
had plenty of
whatever it was
I needed
to hit the spot
whether
I wanted to
or not.