yea…about that

And yet I see you on a Sunday

and on Tuesday, friday, Monday.

And all those other days I


our moments with afternoon coffee

and gators

and Florida sun.

I cried when

you called that sunday

when I knew our moment was gone

and here

all at the same time

I know

it will never be the same.

I miss you.

this is weird…right?

I’ll write you

                    in the morning

when the sun just opens

about ball, about news

ask questions

                     with honest answers

be thoughtful enough

to say I miss you.

be smart enough to hope

you know I mean it

write you

B E A Utifuly



                  as I stir the night.

But why?

what will you return?

you are a dear, my dear

but we are always just


then me.