I remember you
every morning,
and forget you
in the evening.
Filled by the day’s cost,
drained of what I was.
There’s no excuse for you,
no magic words
that make forgiveness
easier this time.
My heart is a thief,
caught up
in the rush of its crimes,
and you are the artist
whose works I steal.
Even in the night,
when our attention wanes,
I drift off the sleep
and you are left
forlorn once more.
I wake before the dawn,
behold your sleeping form
and say a prayer
to God
of thanks for you.
Then, out into the world.
That daily “Good-bye”
still on m lips,
until the evening time.
HG – 2022
