Sometimes I have dreams of you;
they seem to be the only ones I remember.
I was lost and sleeping on a bench
on your front porch.
You left your vehicle and looked down at me.
I rubbed the sun from my eyes long enough
to watch you walk right past.
When I awoke I could still feel you leaving.
The depth I felt between us was wider
than the empty space between us on the blanket
on the hill, at the concert you bought us tickets for.
It's the sadness I felt writing a letter
telling you: I Love You. There is so much space
between your laugh, and my smile, and your
Son, and my Nephew. I can no longer connect
the dots between us.
But I miss you. Waiting on park benches,
waiting in my dreams: I miss you.
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