here

From a bed too many miles from yours

where the pillows have known the salt from my eyes,

but not the scent of your neck

I lie in unwelcomed solitude

Why aren't you on the other side

of the door

taking sock-footed steps into the kitchen

to fulfill your duty to hydration before your run

and start the kettle and cup for me

Hearing you yawn as you stretch,

mumble about the headlines from dawn,

knowing you smile from the ache from the passion at dusk

your last distraction before striking the asphalt

is your need to peek through the door

and check on my comfort

Perhaps if I close my eyes

and let my hands assess the scene,

I'll feel your warmth on the sheets

and the promise of your return