I miss the way you rolled over and kissed her
as the sunlight delicately tiptoed in through the curtains
and the way that the aroma from your coffee so
beautifully accosted my floorboards each morning.
I remember the way laughter echoed off of every wall
when the kids got home from school, their jokes are
still whispered from time to time just between the walls and I.
I still feel your routines and the subtle ways you'd shake
my very foundation once the stars came out to play.

What happened to the good life of my forty-five year long friends? Where were you going as the rain beat down harder than
ever before and why couldn't you find your way back?
Your daughter's doll weeps on her bed. Your son's blanket is
lonely and cold. The ring you gave your wife has lost all
it's perfect shine. The scratched CD you forgot to turn off
still plays the heartbroken songs you two loved dancing to
on repeat. We all remember you, but do any of you

remember us?