I know I imagine it
Even as I turn my head
And think I catch
Her scent
Infused here,
Where she spent
So much time,
Hovering over
Her computer
Like a chef
Over a batch
Of cooking,
It makes me
Squirm here
In the seat she sat in,
I can’t find
A position of comfort,
A position in which
I do not think of her,
My desperation
To return here
And take my place
Among the gods,
Only for her
Not to be here.
I know I imagine it,
When I sniff the air
And catch that
Illusive perform
I still lack a name for,
If it is even real,
I sit where she sat
And wish she still
Sat her,
Wish the scent
I imagine was real
Wish that she
Will not vanish
Grateful that at least
Her spirit
Lingers here.
No comments:
Post a Comment