Empty Space Matches Your Shape

Poetry Sunday

The moon slips soft between the clouds and I slip soft into my bed where empty space matches the shape of you, and I lay down my head to fall to restless sleep now dreaming that I am kissing you instead.

The moon slips quiet through the night to keep vigil over you, and I wake to tangled sheets from dreaming and into the darkness breathe a sigh as I wait for sleep and watch the moon from windows open to the star-lit sky.

The moon slips gently from my sight, as the sun warms the sky in pastel hues, and if I could have my fondest wish Waking up with you is what I’d choose — eyes meeting over coffee first, then scrolling through the latest news.

The sun moves sedately through the sky, and your voice is comfort in my day and breaks the routine of heavy things, a lightness that comes then goes away.

Later, the moon will slip from cloud to cloud, and I will tell you then good night and watch the moonbeams from my bed where, alone, I’ll lay down to sleep and dream instead that your breath brushes close to my ear and your heartbeat’s time lulls me to sleep restless no more and sweetly dreaming — that’s the dream I cannot keep.