Gone but not forgotten

posted in: Other, Poetry | 0

When the wind shakes the shutters outside 

I crawl to the couch with my cup of coffee.

Staring through the panes at the pale sick sky,

I nustle the warmth off the fabric around me.

No such comfort exists outside of dry socks on cold feet.

The thought of work hangs heavy in my mind

Yet still I make space in my time

To search through the clouds

Thinking of her.

Perhaps I’ll go for a walk in the woods

Or maybe I’ll play the same notes through my head.

Whatever I do,

Wherever I go,

I’ll never stop plucking her hair from my pillow.

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