Missing - A Poem

I’m here, sometimes shattered,
Mostly just numb.
My mind swirls
Your smile, your biting kisses
Drawing blood
I finger the sheets
And look up at the ceiling
I imagine you here
Touching my hair
My smile as I reach
Out for you
The ache, deep inside
My fist against my chest,
Grinding at the pain
To me, you are a ghost
A phantom I dreamed
Into being
A wisp of trailing smoke
I tried to hold onto
My hand is empty,
Trembling
I stare at my fingers
Remembering
The feel of your hair
Where are you?
My heart beats wildly
Tears flood my face
Is it just me?
I thought you were real
We were real
Your extra clothes
In my drawer
Folded neatly, waiting
For you
That’s all I have
To anchor me
Against overwhelming
Disbelief

Nice 21 day fall

Fall is my favorite season. Pumpkin everything - latte's, muffins, shakes and pies. The air is crisp and clean; the nights are cool. The leaves are breathtaking against the blue sky. Kids go back to school; carmel apples, corn mazes and rain. So I'm a little bummed that just 21 days into the fall season - it snowed! Yes, I love the snow, too. The flakes last night were beautiful, falling softly from the night sky. But this morning, the snow on the ground seemed incongruent with the still-green leaves on most of our trees. Across the street in the cemetery a young man in a black suit walks across the grass, hands in his pockets, head down. His feet crunch softly in the snow and blowing leaves. He stops and looks up at the gray sky, then down at a headstone. I watch him from safe inside my warm house, my breath fogging the window. The scene tears at my heart and I wonder who he is mourning. As I watch, his shoulders start to shake and his hand brushes across his face. He kneels in the snow and hunches over his knees. I turn away from such private grief. This is how it feels when winter comes before fall. When time is cut short.