This morning

while trembling,


holding

your note

you left

on our

bed

in my

hands.


the sun

fell unexpectedly

full somersaults

from the sky.


a fiery

pinwheel

of downward

motion.


a molten

avalanche

of gigantic

proportions.


crashing all

around me,

as I sat

at my

morning table

eating my

Monday ritual

of oatmeal

and buttered

wheat bread

sweet.


abiding to

doctors orders

like a old dog

trying to

be taught

new tricks.


now uncertain

of what

is to

become

of me

without us.


I know only

one thing

for sure.


I would of

loved you

one more

day,



if you

would

of let

me.