The Quiet Space
I miss you in the quiet spaces. Such as those that wake me in the morning-- A stream of light flooding, the smell of your shirt, the smoothness from Being worn over and over The Shuffling of your feet towards The bedroom door Your fingers gently Turning the lock So as not to wake me And Our boys Grains of coffee beans Grazing your fingers Sagada wafting Through the air Beckoning My still sleeping body To rise, and I do As with all beckonings Of my heart I wonder why But not long I just take One look At two cups steaming You reading in The morning light And me taking my place In the quiet space beside you remembering, Ah, this is why. This is why.