This morning
while trembling,
holding
your note
you left
on our
bed
in my
hands.
the sun
fell unexpectedly
full somersaults
from the sky.
a fiery
pinwheel
of downward
motion.
a molten
avalanche
of gigantic
proportions.
crashing all
around me,
as I sat
at my
morning table
eating my
Monday ritual
of oatmeal
and buttered
wheat bread
sweet.
abiding to
doctors orders
like a old dog
trying to
be taught
new tricks.
now uncertain
of what
is to
become
of me
without us.
I know only
one thing
for sure.
I would of
loved you
one more
day,
if you
would
of let
me.