You did not sing to me
in the cool of the evening
nor plant a lyric in my slumber at noon.

I did not breathe in the your joy
as I freely swung in the blue sky
peered upward in the pail of the balloon.
  
You were gone when my stomach tensed
scanning the spread sheet
my stocks trending downward.

Hammering on my patio project
sweat spilled from my brow.
You, absent from my now.

I blamed you for leaving me,
for my edgy mood and emptiness.
But it was I who slammed the door to the sweet  vapors
of your spirit as I absorbed myself
in the foggy persuasions of my evasions.