Early this morning, as the rain pats the windows,

I wait for my coffee to percolate,

My coffee cup is an old candle, washed out and cleaned

A deep amber glass

It used to hold fire

Now it holds my morning brew.

As I pour my coffee in, I notice that there is sand stuck to the bottom of the glass

on the adhesive where a sticker used to be

I took a nettle tea down to the ocean yesterday

And have unknowingly brought home tiny grained souvenirs

Little sandy specs as an adornment.

I brush most off with my fingertips but keep a few

Stuck to the old, nearly dry glue

And wrap my palms around the handle-less glass

Warming myself in these first few moments of the morning

It made me think how days too can be like this

A moments resting place leaves little grains,

And most will be rubbed off in the days to come

But some?

Some will stay.

And in months or even years from now, those little niggly grains might remind us

Of a time, or a feeling, or a seaside seat

Something almost inconsequential

Becomes the memory of days by the ocean

Tucked away with a love

with sand in the sheets

and on the bottom of your coffee cup