For right now, it's just longing,
With a false sense of hope.
For right now, it's hoping the spring will be able to salvage what little winter left in us.

The grounds were still frozen when you passed,
So ashes you are now,
Into the air like heavy smoke,
with no stone to remember your name.
But we will.

For right now, it's trying to make the best out of the worst,
Parties at your house are unsettling,
8 pm without drunk karaoke,
No cowboys hats,
Just the echo of Mr. Johnny Cash.

For right now, it's pretending.
That loss hasn't made its way into our daily routine,
And memories haven't cluttered into every few thoughts.
Maybe we'll feel better in another six months,
Or not,
I don't really know.