Reflected Truths

Stirring my coffee, the spoon catches my gaze,

a face in its sheen, marked by time's haze.

Lines etched in stories, half-told and lost,

every glance in the metal shows me the cost.

An old friend visits, tales woven and spun,

but my eyes tell a truth I cannot outrun.

The silver contorts, twists memory tight,

a world refracted, where shadows ignite.

I smile at the laughter, at moments we chase,

but the spoon, with its stillness, reveals the trace.