What I Miss

Paul loved playing the piano

What I Miss

Twelve years didn’t erase him.

He is still with me everyday.

The memories haven’t dimmed.

I clearly see his face,

his clear blue eyes, his buzzed hair

in my mind.

I miss hearing him

play his music

as his bent fingers

lightly trickled up

and down the keyboard.

I miss hearing his footsteps

on the stairs and

hardwood floors

as he prowled

around the house at night.

I miss hearing his deep voice

as he said, “hello”

when he came home from work

I also miss his expertise.

He solved our computer problems at night

leaving carefully written instructions

in his childish printing

for us to find the next morning.

I don’t miss his smoking,

I don’t miss his bad moods

during his last few years,

I don’t miss that his sickness

sometimes made him angry

and me angry at him.

No, I don’t miss those things.

But, I don’t think about them.

I just think about the things

about him that I miss.

2008, 2011