week in

week out

I grow weaker without

the curl of your toes

rubbing cheeks

against my nose

and the patterns

of life

that came easily... 

age is wearying me 

now there is space

where once you were 

where days 

are instead nights

that end

in a pillow

to the birdsong 

sleeping was never

my forte

some things are

sometimes

I smile

sometimes

I remember you