Reaching
Night falls again
and I am still in bed.
I wake for a moment,
reach for you. But
You are not there.
Where did you go?
I pull the covers over my head
and cry for a while.
In my sleep, I had
forgotten that you left.
I curl up, then stretch.
I have the whole bed.
You are not there.
Morning nudges my arm,
and I struggle to wake up.
Sleep has me hostage, but
it is easier that way.
I look at the dawn of a
brand-new day. Then,
I curl up once more.
I know not to reach out,
though I yearn to try.
It doesn’t matter.
You are not there.
This was a very visual poem and much better than simply “an attempt at poetry.” Keep up the good work
I enjoyed it very much.
You are amazing. How have you hidden these talents through our years of friendship? Keep writing, my dear. I love this.