Sadness at absence –
Old song, old book
On every shelf,
Imagined laughter,
Missed touch,
Fantasized fragrance.
I want to take you up,
Embrace, kiss,
Look and look and look.
That won’t be;
So here I’ll sit,
Blue, silent;
Write this
And caress
My aching self.
©2010 John I. Blair
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