Left In The Morning
They always leave in the morning.
Before busy traffic hover
over street lanes
and highways.
They are gone like last night.
Like…
last night was a fantasy
and this mornings empty bed
brings me back to reality.
Their memory
is faded in to my poetry.
Written off like taxes.
And the only credit I them
is for my midnight…
happiness.
But my commitments are different at day break.
I never initiated them to stay.
Even the morning quickie
is quickly time in their departure.
I never offered a menu for a late lunch.
Maybe it was me
why such mornings were so…
temporary.
No day light courtesy.
Maybe
that was as far as my expectancy went.
Maybe
if I went and made space
for their shoes in my closet
instead next to the closest exit.
Maybe
if I hung their picture
on my mantle by my keep sakes.
Or awake with fresh fruits,
whole grain pancakes,
and maple.
Maybe
they would have been able
to stay
for a Saturday
afternoon stroll.
Or even….
forever.
