It’s 1:30 a.m., my wife is out of town, and this is how I feel.
The dog is asleep under his blanket
The crickets are playing their third song
The rhythmic ticking from the cheap kitchen clock
Keeps time as I muddle along
With my typing, spacing, deleting
Of words that seem right, then wrong
It’s late, but I’m doing my best to take stock
Of the reasons I’ve been awake so long.
It’s not so hard when I leave her at home
I guess I tend to focus on the task when I’m gone
There are things to do, but I feel misdirected
I need her more than she needs me
I don’t want to go to bed, it’s hard to sleep
The hotel bed is not her spot
The bed at home is where she’s not
I don’t want to roll over and…well… fear
I just like it better when she’s here.