Women are precious creatures.
Without her face at dinner, I have no sustenance.
I become entwined in melancholy.
To not hear her voice,
even when she’s scolding me,
leaves a void in my spirit so deep,
it’s nearly unbearable.
The room becomes devoid of breathable air.
To not see her face first thing in the morning
pilfers the illumination from my day.
She is my warming touch
that eases the cold shoulder of old age.
At dusk, my heart is full of hope
until I remember
that I’ll miss her smile when I close my eyes.
Despite reassurance that we’ll be together again, soon
it couldn’t be soon enough.
I long for the day when she can come home to me
and we can be together again.