What does it mean to sit in a quiet house
and the only sound you can hear is your heart

When the ache of coffee is the ache of age
and the patter of little feet just a memory

What does it mean to see the sun and the flowers
as fellow travelers on this sweet earth

When the oven warms cold bones and soothes old aches
of times when perfume and sweaters hugged you tight

What does it mean to miss you so much
I can't remember if I shampooed my hair or not
so I shampoo it again

When I drive to work and arrive with nary
a memory of the route

What does it mean to doodle your name
as a child learning to write

When the clock moves so slow
and the day seems long

And I imagine your smile, bright and white
and your hands reaching with intent
a look exchanged as pirouette

We share a glass of wine, standing with tangled words
our imaginations of white
under sun and moon

I glance at my watch and wonder why time matters
for there is nowhere I'd rather be
than in this moment, in this place

You look at me with pregnant eyes
and a window opens to put down our glasses
to breech the wooden table
with skirt and hand

And for a moment shared
we both laughed
when evidence walked in
that neither of us had locked the door