Two summers ago while Kristie was working at a farm supply store and I was teaching at the ALC, I was fortunate enough to have Fridays off, while Kristie had to venture off to work.
I wrote this one morning thinking about her absence.
Friday Mourning
Sun struggles through blinds
While you struggle to the shower.
Sleep struggles from me
While I struggle deeper into the blankets.
When you leave,
I find the impression
your body has left behind
imprinted in the sheets.
It’s a poor imitation, but it’ll have to do.
I struggle over to your side
and there we embrace --
Your torso indented in the mattress
Your scent clinging to the pillows
Your heat fading from the covers
And best of all,
Your love beating in my chest.
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