Life With Horace

poetry & essays

The right note

Leave a comment

Tomorrow might have been fifty-two,
not just thirteen since thirty-nine.
The day, aligned with family and gratitude,
always reflected joy, the heat of our love
folded into stuffing.
The missing of him has gotten harder
but it seems he knows. I came upon
the sound of his small gasp
that wrapped me up each time
in beauty gauze, when (finally ready)
I presented myself to his gaze
before our evenings out.
Deliciousness itself, just
knowing that he would, when I did,
that he always meant it,
and I can smile now, the memory
a pitch perfect gift.

Author: Life With Horace

Poetry & Essays

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s