Coffee Stains

August 12, 2010
From every single morning,
Your mark is still remaining.
A perfect little circle,
With a fading outer face.
The inside still a white,
Your mark staining it.
But as I glance down,
I smile.
You’re gone, but still here,
You’re happiness still lingers.
The faded ring, outlines your face, and memories fill the holes.
You’re hair was always stringy, and never stayed in a bun.
Your eyes were old and wise, and dancing with amusement.
Your skin was the proof, of the age that you still hold, tight and taut, and wrinkles everywhere.
Despite the age, you still had youth, with your never dying smile, of chapped lips and crooked teeth,
Your joy was so contagious.
The earrings you never wore, sitting in that wooden box,
We all were in the pictures, smiles on every face.
And then that day, that horrible day, came without a warning.
You were stolen, you were gone, your last breath taken from you,
Snapping back to present, the line bringing memories,
I set my cup, the rim the same, and take a sip of coffee.

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