Strong  winds make rain dance on the roof.
High heels perform passionate flamencos.
The windows weep pear shaped tears.
Fog wraps the house in ***** rags.

You  died
1 year
12 months
365 days ago.

Your aunt said “he’s in a better place.”
What better place than here, with me?
Your uncle said “it was his time.”
I saw no expiration date.

I feel no anger, no denial and accept
that you are gone. The deep ache in me,
the painful rise and fall of memories
will never cease.

I hold your favorite shirt, fold it under my head.
It smells of you and sea and sand and sweat.
Across the front it reads:
“keep the daily bread, give me the wine and cheese!”

I hear you laugh and swallow tears.