Things That Melt

The sun spills warmth onto the counter,

where an ice cube lies, solid but breaking,

a slow surrender, the way memories fade,

water gathering beneath it, clear and cold,

each drip a moment lost, each drop whispers,

a tale of solidity, now slipping away.

Watching it disappear, this silent confession,

I remember all the things that felt so firm,

yet in the heat, they lose their grip,

what was once solid turns to liquid, forgotten,

leaving only a puddle of what could have been,

in the heat of day, everything just slips away.