Water | NaPoWriMo #18

as I write this,
i am drinking a glass of water.
why am i writing about it, you ask?
well, i can't think of what else to write. 
if i asked someone what to write about 
they'd say 'anything that comes to mind'
and the first thing that comes to my mouth
is this glass of water.
not intelligent,
not master craftswoman,
not beautifully complex poem,
this glass of water.
my glass of water.
the glass of water
that came from
somewhere before me,
from the mountains,
from the sky,
from the rivers,
to my mouth.
and so, 
here i am,
grateful, undeserving,
but still writing
drinking that same 
we all 
sip upon
each day.

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