Kept Warm

The office chill bites, teeth

around the bones. My breath

a tiny fog beneath

the hum of cold, slow death

of warmth. I saw him, out there,

a hard hat, shoulders bent.

His dented steel, a kind of prayer

to something comfort-sent.

Steam rising, a quick plume

from the cap, a little cup.

He didn't care about the gloom,

just lifted the hot stuff up.

Metallic taste. A ghost of tea.

Not fancy. Not for show.

Just simple heat, for him and me,

when everything else feels low.