A cup of coffee sits at the edge of the table
Unfinished and passed
By everyone in the room
Going cold
Its purpose still to be served
As someone is sleeping a few feet away
A sip could do wonders to start off the day
If eyes could be opened
If life were more pleasant
Than dreams that are conjured
In a mind that’s at rest
He stirs and his arm
Stretches out towards the table
The drink is knocked over
Spilling onto the floor
A Life in Poems 