the rain has stopped,
but the thunder cracks
and rumbles
and the sky is as
grey and cloudy
as my tired eyes

many days
I think of my
next poem
or my next
brand of cigars
or my next
bottle of wine

but today
I think of you,
my beautiful

I think of
your hair,
eyes,
nose,
mouth,
lips,
smile,
voice,
laugh,
skin,
body,
h­eart,
and soul

I think of you,
my beautiful

I think of us
on a spontaneous trip,
driving in the car
with the windows down,
your hair blowing in
the wind,
singing songs on
the radio
without knowing
all of the lyrics,
laughing as we
make up words
or hum
the melody

I think of nights
on the couch
in front of the fire,
drinking wine,
listening to music,
and reading poetry

I think of mornings
waking up
next to you
with the sun
beaming through the
bedroom window and
onto you like a goddess

as time goes on,
memories will fade,
just as you did,
when you took
your last breath