It's late for me to be writing. This has been one of those days when time just kind of slips away. This morning I slept later than usual, and when I awoke I had wonderful remembrances of Gwen; not long ago, but just a year ago when she was still up and about doing things with me and sharing the bed with me. That prompted me to write this poem:
THE WARM, SOFT, NEARNESS OF YOU
I slept late this morning;
awoke and wanted you next to me,
like always—
asking about my plans for the day,
telling me your schemes and ideas.
Gosh, how I miss you.
What I miss most of all,
on an early summer morning,
is your warm, soft, nearness.
John A. Bayerl, August 2, 2011
It's late, Dear, tomorrow morning I plan to play some golf, and then tomorrow night it's off to a Tiger game with Sam. I'll always feel you warm, soft, nearness.
1 comment:
John, I want to say it's a lovely poem and it's wonderful the way you remember the simple things of life that you shared with Gwen. But I'm sitting in a puddle of tears. Tears that pour down my cheeks knowing how much you miss her. I feel guilty as hell that I don't appreciate every moment that I have with my John. I know that life isn't easy and happy all the time with 3 teenagers....but I don't want to look back on our life and marriage regreting that I didn't cherish it more.
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