My friend, I miss you.
I miss the tingle of anticipation
that you’ll be coming through my door.
I miss the sway as we squeezy hug,
that charges and restores.
I miss the pretty notes of your perfume
the grey that sweeps your hair.
I miss saying that I like your top
and the brimming smiles we share.
Or saying, ‘Oh, you naughty thing!’
as I take the cake and wine,
you always do, though you always don’t
really need to bring.

I miss your natter, the laughs and snorts,
the ranging chats and views.
I miss hearing of your children
and all our other buddy news.
And when you’ve gone, the afterglow;
the altered atmosphere.
You left me more than cake, you know,
the joy that you were here.