It’s August.
The funeral is over.
The apartment is empty.
A week goes by; emotions fade.
I throw out the pen caps you used to
collect and this reminds
me that you're
gone
Its September
and I miss you.
With October comes
the latest atrocity,
and I miss your outrage;
I miss your empassioned speeches
about the dance between human
wickedness
and the better angels of our nature.
Now, November__now December
and the snow has yet to fall.
But Christmas is
colder this year.
The tree sits vacant without
your angel on top of the tree
—No one's been able to find it since
you've left.
Your nutcrackers are silent too
(No more jingles/no swan lake).
December changes into February
and I miss you.
It's valentine's day and love flows
from others lips.
It flows from mine too
“I miss you, Dad.”