was a time
I might have fretted –
December days
without a call
a moment of concession
longing miles –
none at all

with a whisper of
remember me
another place
where time began
how funny now
my grieving weighs
each start to start again

January soon will pass
within a numbered
swell of tides
to ease the ache
of missing –
a voice
where love
abides

. . .