Michal Clayton

warmed in a mug by

the heat of Sunshine.

Nothing is added.

Nothing is adjusted.

Nothing is

stronger.

He takes it black.

But it is hot one moment,

cold the next,

and then only a stain

remains.

The energy he drank in,

the memory of flawless imperfection

remains.

He took that black.

And when the mug becomes half empty

he just looks closer.

He alone can see Sunshine.

Her strength fills him and

he remembers.

His Sunshine made his coffee.