Cup's

One

As the gold of the afternoon sun waned, soft streaks fell onto my cheeks like prep of my doting mother's kisses. I thought it then too early for the sun to fall beneath the horizon, but then again, wasn't there naught that could prolong the sun's set?

"Oi." A deep rumble of a voice startled me -like the mistaken press of a low pitched piano key. With pursed lips, thoughts curious of the face to match the disembodied voice, I looked up. Thus commensed an erratic thrum, alike to that of the loud pounding of the drums, of the thoughtless organ embedded between my lungs.

"Are you alone?" My ears lingered on the droll of his tongue.

I knew then not to wonder why our ribs are fashioned as cages, for it is our hearts that are wild and untameable creatures. And the one in mine now proved difficult to suppress.

"Just lonely." I answered, looking away.

He, instead of walking away, sat beside me on the bench.

I could voice no complaint; the unoccupied space provided that seat for him, I had no right to demand he leave, seeing as no one else was coming to occupy the seat. Not that I would have let them either.

"I like sunsets," I began abruptly, startling even myself. He made no sound in response, so I continued in meager attempt of turning him away.

"When it is morning, the sun is sovereign. To gaze upon him is a punishment in itself. I like sunsets for the ruler of the skies ceases his hostility.

"Sunsets are alike a beautiful painting, with all its colors; the hues of orange, tinges of pink and yellow, mingling with the darker shades of blue and purple.

"But most of all, that it is only there for a moment..." as though an epilogue in form of a burst of color painting the tasteless blue sky and prelude to another crowded starry night.

I turned to him but he was already looking at me, with his head slanted as though he had long been audience to my monologue.

"That it is only for a moment that one is able to share one's feelings to it.

"For, when it is evening where the moon is dame, does the lady not already have too many secrets to keep?"

He remained silent, and yet had not made single movement to indicate flight. The perpetuate of silence caused my lips to quiver from the cold.

"Are you cold?" He suddenly asked.

"Are you offering that coffee?" I answered. From the evident rise of his brows and slight part of his lips, had realized that I may have deduced his question mistakenly.

"No.

"But, here. I suppose you need it more than I do." He smiled, and I granted myself carte blanche to assume that slight curve of his lips genuine.