All that I Have Left
Almost all that I have left.
Just about to the top of the bottle.
But the cap is never screwed on tight
And the cup is always at the edge of the table
And ready to spill
And anxiously waiting to fall on the floor
And be all free.
Doesn't the bottle seem more like a dream?
Only to awake later
And be so easily forgotten in the morning...
Like cupping your hands and trying to hold water,
It just seems to slowly