Empty Cups

The traditional shuffling of black and white pages

Echoes through the empty hall

The silent sipping of morning tea

Embraced by the cold, dark marble floor

I sit so solemnly, by your feet

Not a word needed by me

But you insist I learn

As you spread the zebra coloured paper next to me

I watch your face shrink

Into an uncanny sadness

Deep in your eyes, you’ve set your prize

I’m nothing, compared

Shadows shifting, mugs succumb to the wooden tables

Now everyone is awake, roaming all around

Noises fill the silence of the kitchen, but none fill our own

Orange mist seals the lonely sky,

One day you will grow old just like your own father

Elegantly, with the seasons, your ebony hairs will turn to snow

And father, I will never rue anything more

Than the love I hid, which hurt me so.