Cushion, The Wait, & The Tea

The Cushion

Those swirls, lines, and little love taps,

when you laid your legs across my lap.

The motions as my finger moved around,

told stories without any intruding sounds.

I have worn out the cushion since you died,

because you are no longer physically by my side.

During the times I get stuck in our life review,

in the fabric I trace out many stories for you.

The Wait

I sat, warmed the car, and waited.

You, taking long like I anticipated.

My usual loving husband chore,

like I always did for you before.

2-hours of waiting I did for you.

Just to leave the house into my view.

It took that long to remember my plight.

That you are no longer in my eyes sight.

The Tea

The cupboards, no cups at all,

each time your name I quietly call.

This happens every week,

through the house for cups, I seek.

Earl Grey, Chai, Green, and Herbal teas,

aromas and tastes that put you at ease.

It’s when I get down to the last two,

I replenish those flavors for you.

Each room the drinks I made for you.

This programmed thing I always do.

I know my love in your grave you lay.

It’s just a habit to make tea each day.