Something Comforting

You think nothing can compare to his hands,
that in a few decades you’ll still wish 
for the time he drove you home at dusk,
one hand on the steering wheel,
one on your knee.
When you can’t sleep, remember 
that the moon is more of an insomniac
than you and she is doing just fine.
You will write more poems.
You will find someone else
to drive you home.
You will love again.