It's 9 a.m and you are there.
In the cup of coffee I bring to my mouth that
use to be on your lips when I kissed you good morning.
I'll never forget when I acquired the taste for coffee,
you were elated to wake up and see my face; pour us
each a cup. You are in the following sound. The sound of 1
cube of ice dinging against the mug as I drop it in. Your
tip to cooling it down, (always protecting me), from burning
my tongue. I smile still, in appreciation, reminiscent.
Though your exit left my world dull, I find pieces of you
around like crumbs for when I get hungry-
For your presence. Yet, never fully satisfying.
Fresh cut grass reminds me of the pride in your eyes
after you pushed through a day of work, just to come home
to push a mower. Oh but the joy that came across your face
when completed, it was like you've never seen a garden so
beautiful, a Taj Mahal so grand.
I'd like to see your face view the mansion that resides in the world
you're landscaping now.
You are the taste of a Snickers bar and milk, the adrenaline that pumps
through me during football season, the sound of your truck engine that
I start daily, driving to places that make me more comfortable being without
you.
You're the message in the church sermon, the spark in a firework, the
warmth in a fire. You are.
I named my emptiness after you. For there is no other reason other
than your absence. But, I'm ever grateful.
For the Pink Floyd song that plays when you're on my mind, for the
taste of a good steak you taught me to savor, the Made in America
stickers you told me to support, the extra ray of sun that kisses my
cheek, the unexpected dream you appear in, and for all those
other daddies that remain present in their daughters lives. That
guy I was robbed off. The dad that is everywhere I go-
But nowhere I see.
