If you asked me what I missed,
could I say anything at all?

Homework
and lost words.
Homeward.
and Route 12,
northbound.
Your smile poking its way through.
The tight black skirt,
more cleavage than tee shirt.
A walk or two,
and a view, straight through.
A meticulous routine to undress;
the wood-pellet stove keeping it hot.
The butterfly that was never caught.
Every box of Mike & Ikes bought.
An arbitrary laugh, a foreshadowing sunset-
a neck full of bruises and sweat.
The mocha-chip Thursday Nights at eight.
All the way back to a single Ferris wheel-
an ironically fatal first date.

If you asked me what I miss,
would I say anything at all?