This poem has no title because I don’t know what to call the feeling (a poem)

I let this one sit for a bit first.

How is it barely remarkable
that you were here
that I remember
none of what happened
none of what we said?

How do I wake up in the morning
with the feeling, but nothing else?
I know you were here
but it was so fleeting
I opened my eyes, and nothing…

You’re somewhere in your heaven
dreaming through another hazy afternoon
or maybe contemplating the perfect moment

I’m wide awake and asking myself questions
that have no answers worth explaining

(6 June 2020—posted June 9th)


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5 thoughts on “This poem has no title because I don’t know what to call the feeling (a poem)

    1. The shadow is me. On the left is the workshed attached to my neighbor’s house. I never met him, but apparently he died during the Memorial Day weekend.

      1. Unrelated. I was out back to take an “after” photo—the part of the wall to that shed that’s just out of frame used to be covered with old horseshoes and various nicknacks that have all been taken down.

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