A Single Cup
Empty mugs set side by side,
One for him, one for his bride.
His feeble hands lift to pour,
A single cup. Two, no more.
Robust coffee feeds a soul,
Transitioning to half a whole.
Her essence now consumes the room,
Where he once lived as her groom.
Ceramic warms an aching hand.
Eyes peruse his wedding band.
Steam emerges from his cup.
Tender memories wailing up.
Trembling fingers take a sip.
Deeper in he starts to slip.
Love and laughter. Pain and fear.
Watching as the end grew near.
Bold taste lingers on his tongue.
Hands caress her face of young.
A vision in her favorite pearls,
Surrounded by her golden curls.
Rich aroma taints the air.
Days spent prisoner to the chair.
Drinking slowly, so alone.
Lost and lonely to the bone.
Swallows hard his liquid brew,
Aching for the love he knew.
His grieving spirit longs to heal,
From daily life now so surreal.
An empty cup. A heavy heart,
Trying not to fall apart.
His feeble hands lift to pour,
A single cup. Two, no more.
~Shirley Keefer Topeka 2012~
