The Empty Seat Beside Me

In the light of dusk as it filters through
the finger printed glass,
I can see you there.
At the table you never ate at
or helped me clear dishes from.
My grown up table.
Sitting there just like it was home.
Like you’ve always been there,
waiting for me to notice.
I miss you so much sometimes.
I miss the part of you where I found the part of me.
I miss the bridge between the two.
Our own little planet of us.
You were the only one who ever saw it in me,
who ever knew it was there.
Since then I’ve carried the task of remembering
all on my own.
Keeping it alive. Making it real.
Making myself the person you saw in me.
Somewhere on the shores of the planet of us,
at my kitchen table, in the light of dusk.
Years after you took your last breath
and more still before I let go of mine,
I can almost feel you.

November 18, 2010
Franchesca Peters Gindler

This is the first thing I've written in years that I'm really proud of.