I read your favorite poem today.
It sounded like the first time you read it to me.
The words on the page flew into my mind;
I watched us slow dance together.

We swayed and spun from line to line,
And as I reached the end, I saw your face.
I looked into your eyes and realized
I miss you more than I thought.

It’s a different feeling nowadays
Than when I stood still and watched you drive away,
But that empty feeling still taps me on the shoulder
As I read the first line again.

It's been four days since I felt your touch,
And my skin is burning for you.
My heart leaps when I think of you next to me,
But it's begun to feel like a distant memory.
I'm starting to realize that maybe home isn't four brick walls,
No roof overhead, no floor underfoot -
Maybe home is a person,
And I'm homesick as hell for you.

“I’m sorry I let time get away from me.”

*******.
You want to know that I still think about you.
You want to know that I still wear your shirt.
You want to know that I still have our pictures saved on my phone
(And that I still scroll through them every so often).
Well, congratulations.
I do.

But you don’t deserve to know.
And I didn’t realize it, but in time,
Your shirt would sit untouched in my drawer.
I would delete every last one of our pictures,
And your name would cross my mind,
But not nearly as often.
You don’t get to win.
I do.

Today I sat outside
Cross-legged, nestled in green
As I searched through a patch of clover.
I wondered if my Nana, in her youth,
Had done the same as I did.
I wondered what went through her head,
Searching for a little piece of luck,
Something to hold onto and carry,
As she pondered through the issues of life.
I wondered if a special someone went through her head,
As he did mine,
And I wondered if he felt for her
What she did for him.
I stood up, empty-handed,
Feeling just as lucky for thinking of her
As I would've been with a four-leaf clover.