I check the calendar as I always do

Checking that it is a Tuesday,

Not that I didn’t know that already

But the days run together.

I wend my way up the stairs

Avoiding the one with the creak

That I really should get fixed,

But there is a strange comfort

In such a well-known sound.

In the bedroom I pull out jeans

And the underwear you laughed at,

The cotton granny pants, the bra

With the one small bow as prettifier.

Those on, I pull out drawer two

That holds only The Sweater.

I smile as I shake it out,

The color faded now to pale blue

And the silly, monstrous sunflower.

I rub it against my cheek and feel your hand

Although this soft, worn thing is not you.

God, how I miss you; how I yearn for you.

I pull the sweater over my head

And inside I have counted off a day,

Each one bringing me closer and closer;

A day, a week, a month, a year

And soon, soon I shall be with you,

An Eternity spent in your arms.