Lonely and cold

All my friends have left the tray,

That party, to fill the pitcher,

He wanted to make ice tea.

I clung on, and resisted.

So he gave up on extracting,

No time to play a bit,

He had to entertain the guests.

But he did not refill,

Just put me back,

And closed me inside again.

And so, what am I to do?

I'm here alone,

The hum of the machine,

Is not comforting.

I whistle to myself,

But it's no fun.

And if he fills the tray again,

It will not be the same:

The new guys will not like me,

Misted over and cracked.

They will call me 'gramps',

And humor me,

But I'll be that guy:

Alone in the corner.