Each Morning (A Poem)

What's your favorite animal?

I used to admire big cats,

Their strength and grace enthralled me,

But now, I find solace in birds,

Symbols of freedom, soaring through the endless sky.

I hope you're free, my friend.

Each morning, the piercing sound of the alarm,

My hair tossed in a simple ponytail,

My shoes are tightly knotted, ready for the day ahead.

Down the creaking wooden stairs I tread,

The ache in my shins a reminder of growth,

Of the pains that accompany progress.

My toes meet the cold tile floor,

Hands reach for the familiar glow of the kitchen lights,

As coffee pours into a ceramic cup,

"It's official, you're awesome," it reads,

A gentle nudge forward in the face of solitude.

Seated at the table, coffee in hand,

I glance at the empty seat across from me,

The pit in my stomach growing,

An unsettling feeling of loneliness trickles in.

Outside, a bird chirps loudly,

Perched on the tree across from my window,

Its blue plumage a striking contrast against the morning sky,

Resting on my windowsill as if sharing a secret.

As I lift the mug to my lips,

The bitter taste of coffee washes over my tongue,

And the bird cocks its head, a silent greeting.

A faint smile tugs at my lips,

Remembering our shared love for dark roast,

The bird's cooing echoing our past conversations.

"Hey buddy," I whisper,

Hoping you hear me,

Warming my stomach, the coffee offers a gentle embrace,

A silent message that you're still here, somehow, somewhere,

A glimmer of hope in the darkness of loss.

Maybe it's the space between us,

That keeps you alive in my thoughts,

Reminding me of the greatness we shared,

Even as it slips away.

We yearn for what we can't have,

A testament to our humanity,

And perhaps, in holding onto memories,

We keep a part of you alive.

So wherever you are,

I carry you with me,

In the birds that sing, the coffee that warms,

And in the moments we shared,

Always in my heart.