September 22, 2008
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Steaming coffee,
Counts the inches it pours,
Until it stains the floor.
But time starts to slow…slow…slow,
Then stops; all at once.
Frozen coffee hangs from the tilted cup,
And ever so slightly,
Begins to crawl back into its abode,
While invisible winds lift the mug,
Onto the counter,
Narrowly missing the flailing,
Of a laughing child’s arm.

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