Presence
Gone, but not forgotten,
steals a little of my heart,
and no matter where I breathe
we are never far apart.
I see you at your icons;
your little bed beside the fire,
your favourite trees; the river;
facing cats that raise your ire.
Now even in our great divide,
that both of us were dealt,
without a word, or even thought,
your presence can be felt.
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2020
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