I miss you
coming in
and out each day;

I miss your quiet
presence as you stood
and thought;

I miss you standing
behind me as I write,
your soft spoken words
as you pointed out
an error in my work.

I miss your being here,
your wandering
from room to room
looking out for food;

that laughter,
that way you had
with wit and humour.

I miss you, my son,
miss the being of you
in my life.

I miss the presence
of you as each day
goes by;

I know you
are there
as I silently cry.