cliche

it is really
(a cliche);
the teabag as found art in the studio

but there is a reason for it
a reason why we find this stained, used, crumpled, hardened pouch
so compelling...

is it the color
in its monochrome
or
the delicacy
of its strength?

perhaps it's the evidence of nurturing
that we can't discard
or
the reminder of an organic purity
that transcends a packaged state

maybe it's so simply
all those complex things