The first cup of coffee in the morning is like a first love. The second isn't quite as good somehow - not as sweet, decadent, satisfying. All others that follow are compared to the first and never measure up. When the first one is gone, one longs for it and assumes taking another will fill the longing but it never does. No, it never does.
Seeing the empty cup reminds one of the time together, shared in quiet moments, intimate mornings. Oh, the longing for night for afterwards is another First Cup of Coffee.