nother sleepless night, I wake at 5am to the cry of a loon on the lake.
Only to roll over, not wanting to deal with another day.
Nothing is the same here anymore since you have been gone.
We were the talk of the town.
You, a philosophical hippie, 20 years my senior
Me, the pirate, a pagan witch and the community sorcerer
But our family and friends accepted us and welcomed us with open hearts
I manage to paint a pleasant smile on my face for show.
But behind that pseudo smile lies a soul in sorrow
I shut the emotional door and pretend that I am not at home.
The kettle screams for attention as it whistles.
I make black coffee to start the day
Look around only to be once again reminded of you.
I pick up your picture on the mantel piece next to your ashes.
Oh how I long for your company and to hear your voice.
I throw on a shirt, jump in the truck and make my way down to the ocean.
Oh how we loved the Atlantic.
I manage to paint a pleasant smile on my face for show.
But behind that pseudo smile lies a soul in sorrow
I shut the emotional door and pretend that I am not at home.
Then another day passes, like the day just past
I carry out my limited activities with emotional detachment.
Split some firewood for evening's heat. Cooked some chili as I stare at your belongings.
The peace symbol wall hanging, the row of books, the beaded door, your bracelets.
Another day passes, I repeat my routine.
Sitting on the step, I stare at the over grown garden of weeds
I ask myself, does it ever get easier? But, my heart is yelling no!
I manage to paint a pleasant smile on my face for show.
But behind that pseudo smile lies a soul in sorrow
I shut the emotional door and pretend that I am not at home.
Oh Julia, I long to hold you in my arms once more.
This is what hides behind that pseudo smile.
