the clanking sound
at eleven o’clock searching in
the dark for a frying pan. The smell
of bacon and eggs, and thumping

legs taking the grub
back to his room, studying
all night and waking at noon. I’ll miss
the bedhead at two, as he stumbles

into the shower, and the hugs –
even though he towers over me,
at six-three. I’ll miss the kisses
as I leave to do the shopping. The laundry

will be light without all his shirts
he wears once, towels and socks. And I’ll
miss the talks on the couch as we’re
watching tv. But most of all I’ll miss the laughing!