I didn't get over losing you easy,
Your name still a whisper under my tongue.
I woke up today counting the years of it
On my fingers: 26 without you.
This year is different.
Now, I am the last of us,
Our once large family
that filled a station wagon
Gone.
I'm all that's left,
The curator of a collection
Few come to visit,
Though I wait for guests,
Dusting off what's special
And smiling at the rest.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
About Susan L Daniels
I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
Susan Daniels Poetry 
I feel your pain.
Noel
On Sun, 21 Feb 2021, 1:37 pm Susan Daniels Poetry, wrote:
> Susan L Daniels posted: ” I didn’t get over losing you easy, Your name > still a whisper under my tongue. I woke up today counting the years of it > On my fingers: 26 without you. This year is different. Now, I am the last > of us, Our once large family that filled a station wagon ” >
Thanks! Its more nostalgia today . missing can be sweet.
Old pain still makes us wince.
That’s a hard one to read. But glad to be reading you nonetheless, because you always make me feel something, even if that feeling is wistful.
Thanks, baby. It makes me feel that thing called saudade.
I hear ya. You got one person that’d like to visit with you someday.
Same! We should do that.
So personal and poignant, words that leave us able to touch your pain.
Thank you. I miss her so damned much.