When morning leans its weight against my day,
Your name drifts in like light across the floor.
In every quiet thought that slips my way,
You’re half the reason I still ask for more.

The coffee cools; I trace your outline there,
In curling steam that lingers, then is gone.
A shadow of your laugh hangs in the air,
A ghost of warmth that all my doubts rest on.

The hours fold like pages, one by one,
Yet every margin finds your initials drawn.
I chase your memory like a fleeing sun,
And find you waiting in the early dawn.

Though distance keeps its watch between us two,
My every constant, gentle thought is you.