I mourn
The mornings gone,
Waking to the cold,
Bare feet on hardwood,
Firing the furnace,
The smell of strong coffee,
Two cups placed,
Climbing back into warmth
Beneath the Pendletons.

I mourn
The mornings gone,
Lazy hours abed
For a family of four,
In winter coats
Jake, Shady
Upon our lap and leg.

I mourn
The mornings gone.
I would read her
Fascinating finds in
Scientific American,
Smithsonian.
She would pretend
To listen.
In return I would
Refill her cup.

I mourn
The mornings gone.
Is not love
Two cats, a man
A woman,
Content together as
One,
Content to hold
The day at bay,
Content to just be.