The Thermal Imprint of the Void

On the smooth wood, where the crystal once lay,
a caress of air, slightly warmer,
traces the outline of a silent absence,
the thermal shadow of a sip that was taken.

Not an etched sign, not a color that settles,
but a fragile breath, a soundless echo,
which tells of a brief stay, a suspended pause,
before the balance fully recomposes itself.

A small mirage that the hand cannot grasp,
an invisible signature left upon the evening,
a fleeting witness of a moment of life,
in the placid silence of the extinguished surface.