You leave two mugs upon the rail
One for tea, one left to stale
Not because you need the pair
But you like the way they share
One is chipped, the other's plain
But both hold a little rain
You don’t say what mornings mean
But you keep the table clean
Mugs on the ledge, side by side
Even space can be a guide
You don’t pour a lot of sound
But your presence wraps around
You don’t stack or match with care
But I see your rhythm there
In the break, in every edge—
You're still love on that same ledge