Without you in our world,
Twenty-three seconds feels as long as twenty-three months,
Twenty-three months feels as short as twenty-three seconds.
How is time measured?
By the warmth of the breeze?
Whispers around a corner?
Creeping of ghosts at night?
Time has little meaning:
Not by breaths
But days counted until another milestone.
Too many milestones.
Too many elevenths of every month.
But what is the alternative?
Passing time brings memories:
Your smirky smile,
Your asinine jokes and pranks,
How I miss your sudden appearances:
Presenting me with armloads of irreparable mending
or taking over the garage to service your vehicle
or wearing a perplexed look, seeking advice.
I miss our talks.
I miss you in the driveway with your truck.
I even miss empty Bud cans scattered about the house!
Time brought the bad:
The scourge of cancer,
Your fight to live,
Your last breaths.
Where has time gone?
Tears are as fresh twenty-three months ago
as they are today.