Through the Steam

Steam curls up from my old cup,
Sunlight pours as I wake up.
You once sat across from me,
Stirring sugar quietly.
Laughter swirled in morning haze,
Marked our slow and simple days.
Now the chair you filled is bare,
But your warmth still lingers there.
Even silence knows your name,
Every scent still plays the same.
Through the steam, I see you smile,
Faint but clear, just for a while.
Even when you're out of frame,
This small cup still feels the same.
Echoes float in early gleam,
And I find you through the steam.
New barista hums a tune,
Old jazz plays from some back room.
Your reflection in the glass,
Gone before the moment passed.
Napkin folds and wooden trays,
All remind me of your ways.
Even if you don’t return,
Somehow still, I always yearn.
Fogs may clear and cups grow cold,
But your shadow’s softly bold.
In each breath the coffee makes,
There’s a step that memory takes.
Through the steam, I see you smile,
Faint but clear, just for a while.
Even when you're out of frame,
This small cup still feels the same.
In the hush of day’s new gleam,
You're still here — through the steam.