Sunday, September 4, 2011

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.

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