I look at you over my morning cup of tea,
Examining every wrinkle in your amiable face,
Each one marking a moment of happiness.
Compassion drips from your eyes, like your coffee onto the saucer.
Drip, drip, drip.
The corners of your worn mouth curl into a warm smile,
And a soft chuckle comes from within.
But the cruelness of time transforms it into a cough
So that by the time it reaches your withered lips it merely reminds me
Of your age.
Time has disfigured your laughter-
Now it only serves as an impatient ticking.
Tick, tick, tick
Towards the impending doom.

You are transfixed by the dancing words in front of you,
I see your eyes dart across the page,
Chasing each letter with a desperate yearning.
You, like I, recognise the beauty of words-
It was you who taught me to allow the words to be free.
I still remember how your gentle voice rippled over my bedsheets like tsunami tides of wisdom,
Transporting me to a million different worlds
All at once.

You continue to sip your coffee,
And I my tea,
Words uniting our disparity.