Its sunday morning.
outside the open window
church bells lilt an old hymm.
i am wearing your shirt again
sipping a coffeee.
All seems familiar
even your smell is with me.
It is the only thing that
brings me comfort
since the sickness
won the final battle.
I pick up the telephone
dialing our number
again and again.
Just to hear
your voice once more.
I savour every nuance
and inflexion of you.
for a brief moment
you are with me again.
And comfort falls
like down feathers.
you ask me
to leave a message.
i whisper
i miss you honey.