A story to a cup

A story to a cup

A story to a cup
Pouring your words like steaming grounds,
a dark and fragrant mystery.
Each sentence, like the bitter, sweet first sip,
tells a story no one but you and I will know.
I hold the porcelain bowl, its warmth a comfort,
as you unfold the tapestry of years.
The clink of spoons, a gentle punctuation
to all the things you held inside with fear.
The cup becomes a vessel for your journey,
a small and solid island in the day.
With every drop, the heavy past is lifted,
your worries melting into swirls of gray.
And I, the quiet witness to your truth,
take in the fragrance of what you have lived.
The fragile courage in your whispered youth,
a precious gift you have so freely gived.
Let silence settle on the empty cup,
a sacred quiet where your soul is seen.
And we'll be richer, having filled it up,
with simple kindness and what lies between.