Yet another morning I wake to find you gone from our bed.
Air shudders from my lungs and across my dry mouth.
Wondering what I will find; straining my ears to hear.
How have I upset you this morning?

Echos of yesterday's conversations still ring.
The bitter salt springs eternal in my eyes
Not to soothe the abused and overworked spheres
But to toil them further.

Toil intended to force them to look unnaturally inward.
Nerves and sinews strained to breaking.
The optic nerve connected to the heart string.
Unable, all, to work in harmony.

I recognize beauty in the flower in my window
Lit with the unwelcome and perfect blue winter light.
The tired spheres gladly look outward again
Seeking beauteous distraction.

My thoughts and words do not flow easily today.
I am ill at ease, not knowing
If you will stay by my side all this night.
So that I might hold your hand in the dark.