June 4, 2012


The bed is now
an empty desert,
my hand searches
the space
you left behind.
The wind carries me
off to sleep, cast adrift
on endless time.
I've lost my way,
your signposts gone,
tracks disappearing
into sand. I awaken
to the ringing phone,
it says you're thinking
of coming home.
You will bring
some rain, some sorrow,
sleeping here
again tomorrow.