his side of the closet
is vacant now,
save for a handful
of white wire hangers
left behind
too fragile and bent
to be useful again.
and you don’t know
where he went
as his side of the bed
refuses to let go
of his scent.
and as you take
another sip of coffee
by a window
overlooking the yard
you realize just how cold
were the days
and how hard
those nights despite
his constant presence
in your life
as an early morning snow
begins to fall.
