| I felt you thinking of me,
just as surely as I felt the cool carress
of the sweet night air
brushing against my cheek.
I sat on the porch
as we did so many times
and so many nights ago.
I felt your warmth
and heard your sigh.
Or was that the breeze
curling around the edge of my chair,
playing with my hair,
teasing the strands blown out of place...
Is that you,
is your spirit truly here with me?
I want to tell you
that the trees
are touching the house,
the ones we planted so many years ago.
They now cast the shade
we wanted so badly
to stop the glare
of the hot afternoon sun on the porch.
We sat and watched them grow
and talked to them,
year after year
while the insects sang
and birds hopped
from branch to branch.
But you had to leave.
Now I am here alone
with the empty porch,
the cool night breeze
and the trees
that are now touching the house.
For Bob who died September 15, 1999
Written
by: Ann Glasgow©
March
27, 2004
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