Past your bed time, the clock said.
But I could not sleep.
Two Thursdays since I saw his quenched tear.
Two Thursdays since he hugged me goodbye.
I could not sleep.
His room, a still shrine
Everywhere the pieces of him rest.
Smiling Mike the Knife moon over his stuffed prizes.
His fun turn calander on his last day home.
The giant tiger I always said
“I’m a gonna take it to school with me.”
The empty space on his desk
where he fiddled with his new box stereo.
I have not been there often
maybe, once, twice the most.
It’s hard enough to miss him
when he’s not here.
When pieces of him are around
harder still for me to say,
“he’s better where he is!”
So, a cup of warm milk later,
I look at the clock as it scolds me.
Tomorrow I can pay its due; tonight I’ve paid enough
Hope tomorrow, miss him just a little less.
Hope tomorrow, get some sleep.