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. 




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