Poems From The Porch
The sunrise is finally touching the stark, gray mountain,
lighting it up, silver and white.
I am bundled against the cold
and barely feel it.
Life is crisp and fresh,
pastel-colored stones and green lodgepole pines.
I don't think of you every day.
No, my life is lived in relation to you every moment – –
my one great love.
Everywhere I look,
I am seeing with you.
I'm not searching for you anymore where you are not found,
but that doesn't mean that I am not in denial, at times.
The pain is different now,
not an acute loss of limb,
but a phantom ache that reminds me of the beauty of our love,
and that,
well,
you're still here.
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