I am sitting here with my coffee tumbler (as you aptly call it) in front of me and I feel no need to drink this elixir of hope we call coffee. I miss you. I can almost imagine your beautiful face beyond the steam of freshly brewed coffee and your barely contained excitement and I can hardly make my way through these words you say, they puzzle me. I see this dancing spirit in your eyes and I am already in another time, another landscape. Perhaps we are old and with our weak knees and bones grumble about youths or we are dancing down a slope in a frenzy of expert moves and maneuvers. You scold me later but darling, how do I turn down these invitations of ecstatic promises. Hold my hand and make me stay in now.