It Is Not Always the Same Story

It is not always the same sunrise
The same sundown
In the same sky
In the same season,
It is not the same story every time,

Eyes lock over the rims of crisp cups
The sun has poured
The afterglow in,
Behind the dull smoke curls
Faces fall apart
In their pretense
To sip the last drop,

Hours and minutes drag on
Across a stretch of silence
The breeze lingers over the unsaid words
For a while before
Melting into memory,

Birds gather their wings tight
And nod their sluggish heads
At the falsettos echoing in the air

The cups struggle to keep
The pale light spilling
From their fragile hold,

Another story waits hesitantly
At the bend of an untrodden path
The afterglow fades and hardens
At the bottom of the cups,

Freckled lips purse
Weary eyes look away from time
And faces fall apart as the story
Picks out another plot
For another season.