Measuring Your Absence

How do we measure your absence my love?
In breaths, moments, months, weeks, days, or hours?
Shall we number the tears that have burned our cheeks,
Or the petals that have fallen off the summers flowers?
Do we count each memory shared with another,
Or the hugs that were given in your name?
So many comments left on your Facebook wall,
Reminding us that we are not alone in our pain

Last night as I lay next to your sister,
The moon crawling towards the morning sun,
I swear I felt you cuddled tightly in my arms,
I could almost feel you breathing... only our breaths were one.
Do we measure your absence in dreams my love?
If so, you've only been gone from me for a day.
Do we go by the number of Wednesdays gone by?
There have been four since you went away.

Do we use the number of sympathy cards received,
And the hearts that have been touched near and far?
Or do we count the times we lost it, together and individually,
By your headstone, in the shower, alone in bed, or the car.
Shall I count each time I used your shampoo to smell you near.
Each picture stared at, touched, and lightly kissed.
I wonder if any of the things we do here now,
Can truly measure the depth of how much you're missed.

Perhaps we should measure our time without you,
By the prayers we have given on bended knee.
Or all the pleas asking why you left us so soon.
Requests sent to heaven to keep your spirit close to me.
Does it really matter that it is the 11th of the month?
All these reminders that we are now physically apart.
No... I will not measure your absence, my love,
Instead I will carry your life's song forever in my heart.

Sleepless Dreamer

The night calls out and beacons me to play. Thoughts dancing wildly in my mind. I toss and turn until the gentle lull succeeds and I find myself here once again. Sitting, drinking a warm cup of tea in the silence of the evening hours. There is a peacefulness about this time of night. A stillness that is difficult to find during the day. I hear the songlike breathing in rooms around me. I wonder what images fuel their dreams. Will they remember in the morning? Will I still be awake when they arise? I hope not. Sometimes that is my fate though. To lay sleeplessly and dream about sleep.