The longer the sun is in the sky,
the longer you are not here.
When the world is dark from end to end,
the hills shoulder-firm against the rising of the light,
the space where you are not is dull.
But in the light,
shadows sharp-lined across the floor and sheets,
the emptiness is marked.
Though hope may be,
It was not your ghost, of course not,
you have not passed.
But the thought of you, the spirit of you,
the word you had given to be here.
From the empty bed, pillow unpressed,
to the empty cup, no coffee in the kitchen air,
the space where you should have been,
the emptiness of your promise is my companion.