Thursday, April 12, 2018

NPM 2018: Mornings (Day 12)

Written December 7, 2017

I miss you most
as frost-covered windows
keep the sunlight from waking me,
when instead
of your warm weight against my back
tethering me to sleep, I feel
an empty cave of blankets.
were made for your softness.
Your golden gaze
anchored every moment but
longed for adventure,
your heart beat emphatically
in a rhythm that spoke of
running in the snow
and chasing
whatever we could find.
I miss you most
there is nothing to keep me here
and nothing
to make me rise.

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