I want my fears to fall
into his stone goblet of fire.
Igneous, perishing, eventually vanishing,
into moonlit glowing embers.

I want my dreams to fall
into his crystalline wine glass.
Calefacient, revealing, cajoling,
into bantam fizzy bubbles.

But most of all-

I want my tears to fall
into his half empty cup of coffee.
Warm, inviting, splashing,
into the murky unknown.

by: David Bonser