When you slow inhale
the earthy scent
of a morning just
before the rain.

When one sweet chord
has been struck
and your ears gently strain
for the next, new note.

When the day has slowed
and the wine hasn’t yet
touched down warm
in your belly.

When you wake, still sleepy
your dream now broken,
and you wait to fall
asleep again.

When the pen has paused
and white space awaits
for a word which may
never follow.

I bear those moments
before the next
just as I bear
missing you.

Categories: Creative Writing, love, Memories, poetry, prose | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

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