Each night when I slide into bed,
or with each “good morning” text,
or when I sit on the yellow couch
facing the vacant red chair—
I miss him.

But then I hear the giggles,
watch her sign “more,”
or say “oh-oh” when something falls
before declaring she’s “all done.”
I am glad to be here.

Family game nights,
Independence Day cookouts,
and splash days
in the hot July sun;
I wouldn’t want to miss those.

My days are mostly full.
I'm at my desk until five,
and three days a week
I step out to dance
and catch up with the ladies.

I’ve got books to read,
and shows to binge
with bits of writing now and then.
I’ve taken myself out to eat
and enjoyed solo movie dates

He’s coming to see me this week;
I’m counting down the days.
I guess this gives us both something
To look forward to; anticipation 
Is not a bad thing.

I know I’m where I need to be,
And this is also true for him.
But every now and then,
Like on a quiet Sunday afternoon,
I’m wishing things were just a little different.