Come and Go
I have learned not to miss you, lately.
Each day, each hour, I fill
my life with little things.
There is the garden. One might
lose himself there, among the rows,
tending to ones mindless chores
beneath the slow clockwork of the heavens.
Never mind that you loved the flowers
and the sunlit days we shared.
Such will come and go, come and go
as you did, and who might stop them?
There is rain tonight. It also
comes and goes, and that is expected.
Tomorrow, I know I shall still yearn
but not so much. I have learned
not to, lately; learned not to miss you.
Stephen Brooke ©2014
I think this sort of romantic drivel come too easily to me...