I swallow the first signs of spring
With my morning juice
The birds are awake,
I can’t shake winter’s noose.

While this body moves slow
The seasons change fast
I spread the marmalade
And dwell on summers past

Crumbs are sprinkled like snowflakes
Memories appear so palpable
The breakfast stains are set
I ponder, am I culpable?

I’m social by nature
But take my meals alone
I raise my glass and toast
Dreams for which I can’t atone

Every meal we shared
Is on the tip of my tongue
The songs that she loved
Will never be sung

The solace I seek
I try to pry from her fist
All the windows are open
The stale odors persist

I’ve cleared the table
But I have a hunch
Whatever I’m serving
She’ll be here for lunch.