in the night the clock in the kitchen is deafening
it is the sound of time marching on,
of morning turning to night,
and the inexorable motion of the earth
as it spins it's way through the universe
one small measurement of moment at a time.
it is the metronome to my dance of days.

my weary eyes pass over my glowing screen a last time
before i trade in my loneliness for sleep
and my gaze moves to the empty spot
beside me on the couch.
my hand grazes the cushion
where you should be
as i whisper to you
in the silence
even though you are miles away.

i miss you.