Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Dreaming on Park Benches


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.