The First Day Without you

The first day without you was nearly four months ago. The first day without you, that is today, too. Just now, my eyelids grew heavy and I set my book aside, and there you were. For a moment. For a while, until reality overtook the illusion. Yet, for a little while, you were there with me, for some time. Like when I hear your little bell at night, or your voice, so soft, calling: “love!" I meant to say nothing, but when I laid the book down, there you were, for a while. And weeping, I rose. For you. For us. For fifty-one years of marriage, and fifty-four years of trust. Still lingering, for some time, because those years shone quietly through. For a moment. Even without you.