when you leave in the morning,
the faint scent of you remains on our bed for just a few breaths.
i remember meeting you,
falling asleep in your arms and thinking
how right it felt, although i’d known you
if we’re being generous.
light plays on the floor
we’re missing a tabby cat
to bask there all day.
the last two scoops of coffee
go into the maker, which i need to clean with vinegar
because its scent is that of a thousand cups of coffee
from a thousand mornings.
i wish you were here to share
these last two cups with me,
but you are sending melodies into the morning air
as you should be.