i only miss you on mornings when the sun decides to show
and only on evenings when the stars and moon glow
when the grass is a shade of green and the sky is a blue,
when we're far, far apart and when i'm right next to you

i'll miss you for as long as night and day are oblique
and as long as seven days make up one whole week
for as long as you're gone and as long as you stay,
i'll miss you when you're here and when i'm counting the days

it's when you're all dressed up in a dapper-looking suit
it's when you're in bed, sick, and i'll have to make you soup
under all these circumstances, that is only when–
you know what? ***** this poem, i'd still miss you then