TUESDAY PANTS

Hot cup of coffee,

or vat, 

or two,

when you

​

would walk through the door.

 

Shoes off,

brush speckled snow,

wash at sink 

with wooded window.

 

He’d wait for you.

          I’d wait too

 

not knowing how sweet would be moments we’d spend

in ways that we thought would just never end.

 

They'd build roads and byways, illustrated with art,

sidewalks and streets 'cross the map of my heart,

to lookouts of warm amber golden sun rays​

on even the coldest, darkest of days.

 

I didn’t back then know.

Couldn't there see all this.

Time's best. Then, due crests. But I guess

   ignorance really is bliss.

​

we felt that season; so fresh and so free.

And I dressed him just right

in love and sweet liberty:

​

If the day were his country, 

fabric red, white, and blue,

waving proudly in the breath

of your “I love you.” 

 

It’s Tuesday;

 

                     and I miss you so much.