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Cup-Side Conversation - BeeWaee
Cup-side conversation
A cup waits beside my hand
Warm, willing to listen
Steam lifting in slow sentences
No hurry to reach a point
The table holds our silence
As if it has heard this before
Scratches like old remarks
Faint but still present
Piano notes sliding gently
Not asking for attention
Just sitting with us
The way light sits on glass
Your voice is not here
Yet it leans against the chair
An outline made of memory
Clear enough to feel
I say nothing important
Small words only
Stirring the surface
Without touching what's below
The cafe breathes around us
Door opening, door closing
Milk foaming, spoons resting
A language made of simple sounds
Every now and then
A thought taps the rim
Like a finger on porcelain
Then decides not to spill
We don't solve anything
We don't begin or end
We share the comfort
Of not needing to explain
Cup-side conversation
Quiet, unfinished
Held together by warmth
And the space we leave
Between words
