Night Coffee

In the stillness of midnight,  
as shadows dance across weary walls,  
the familiar ritual unfolds—  
a soft clink of porcelain,  
the aroma rising like whispered secrets.  

Remembered warmth wraps around my hands;  
dark liquid pressed between fingers,   
like an old friend who no longer visits.  
Each sip a bittersweet echo,  
steeped in dreams yet unspoken.  

The world outside may slumber deep—   
but here, solitude brews with me;   
a companion as constant as moonlight’s caress.  
Oh night coffee! Guardian of thoughts unwound,    
keeper of confessions made to smoke-tinged air.  

Time slows,— ticks into golden grains:   
moments suspended in swirling steam;    
and every taste lingers long after—   
an elegy penned on the tongue's edge.  

We shared our truths beneath star-kissed silence;    
those moments when darkness pressed close —    
I poured hopes into that humble cup.     
Together we forged the beginnings and ends      
of countless stories unraveling softly…   

But like all things that thrive on hours’ hush,
you fade with dawn’s arrival—in layers undone:   
the last drop swallowed—its memory lost—a shadow gone,
drained into daylight’s merciless gaze.

Yet here I sit in twilight's embrace,     
clutching dreams while longing for your return—       
for night whispers its promises ever still—
while somewhere out there—the kettle waits quietly…