a lost poem

I can be glad I am up early

this first morning without you.

I have bought the good eggs

and the good coffee.

I do not miss your constant

checking of the weather,

or your work boots scattering

dirt across the hardwood floors.

I do not miss your heavy

morning sighs.

This is what I like about morning:

What I don't yet know

about the day.

I am content drinking coffee,

not yet knowing if the grey sky

will open, not yet knowing

what I will miss about you

when I walk out the door.