The booth is by the window,
And I sit alone, my hands wrapped ‘round a cup
Of cold coffee, starring at the slow rain.
Once this cup was warm,
Warm as your face smiling back at me,
My fingers holding you, spread past your
Small ears, head tilted for your inviting kiss.
But you are here no more.
I look into my cup,
Where once swam sweet cream and sugar
Now a face looks back from the black,
Haggard with sadness.
I have lost you. You have grown cold,
Cold as this black coffee,
Stagnant in my hands.
The waitress, from long knowing,
Stays away, watching,
Waiting for a signal,
A nod, eyes cutting to the mug,
Looking for a pour of more sad brew,
To swallow, wallow in my sorrow
Of bitter black.
Charles Darnell lives in San Antonio, Tx and is a member of the Sun Poets Society. He serves on the Board of Directors for Poets Without Borders which publishes The San Antonio Review. His work has appeared in Voices Along the River, The Fourteen Percenter, Misty Mountain Review, and other journals.