I want to begin with a where,
And a why,
And a sort of a how.
I want to tell you that the light is soft,
Whether it is the flicker of a candle or the glow of a lamp.
I want to tell you of the music,
As a piano dances, a violin takes to the sky and lyrics sink into the depths of me.
I want to tell you of my sweater,
The long gray one that falls to the backs of my calves,
that sways with my every move,
much like a tango,
only with a more subtle flair.
Can a sweater even be like a tango…
I wrote that over and again last night,
And deleted it each time.
Yet, here I am writing it once more.
Perhaps it wants to be written, and wants to be told.
There are other thoughts too,
Moments of nothing but cloudy mist,
Afternoons weary from searching
The edges of dawn blushing at the very thought of what may be,
And, the way I love coffee with cream
In a small cup
And later in the day, tea
Also in a small cup
Sweetened with a touch of cane sugar
And stirred rhythmically
With my favorite spoon.
Do you know why I love a small cup?
Because, I sip more than I drink,
I savor more than I gulp.
I like my brew hot…
Too big of a cup, and it goes…
It’s not meant to be cold,
It’s meant to be…
…and steamy and bold.
So that the cup may warm my hands,
As the brew warms my soul…
That’s the way it’s meant to be,
As the sun upon my face
As the love within my heart,
My hands hold gently
My lips kiss the edges
And I am embraced by the heat
So very completely…
That’s the way it’s meant to be
ellie894 November 14, 2019