i like to wake up early in the morning
at that initial break of dawn
when the sun has yet to fully peak the horizon
i walk into the kitchen
and brew myself a full pot of coffee
but ignore the fact
that there’s no one for me to share it with
i pour some into a deep, maroon mug
and wrap my cold hands around its surface
i step out onto the porch
and make my way down to the grass
i let the dew-stained blades tickle my bare feet
as i walk over to the little lilac bush
and gently brush my hand over the fading blossoms
i bring one of the blooms up to my nose
and breath in that nostalgic scent
reminiscing on—-
and there’s a sigh

i make my way back inside the house
and i set my now empty mug deep down into the sink
i dry my face with a tissue
then i pick up that pot of coffee—-still mostly full—-
and i drain it
down into the sink
listening to the liquid rush into the drain
the sound
similar to that of a waterfall