Muted

in the filtered
blue glow
of your favorite late show
with the light
from the bathroom
left on~
I can make out
your face
and it's hard
to erase
from my memory,
although you
are gone.

In our silence
a sweetness,
a comfort, it's true
needing less
to be said
meant much more~
we lived well
in our day
and had so much
to say
but your smile,
it just cut
to my core.

And we sat side by side
on the sofa
twas your hand
on my ankle
which said~
I am here,
you are there,
theres no distance
I swear,
you still whisper
sweet nothings
in bed.

So forgive me
for getting
all sappy
but the late show
is on
and you're there~
in the blue
of the den,
I can't hear
Letterman
he's been muted,
so music can blare.