Left Behind

One of us will stay,
the other will leave.
If you are first, I will hold
your knitted cap and red cup
to feel a trace of you.

If it’s me first,
what will you hold–
handles on the soup pot?
trowel from the garden?
the empty ring
from my finger?

*

Before You Are Gone I Miss You

I miss your half asleep voice
in the morning,
the pull of the blanket
as you get out of bed,
your shoelaces snapping
on the hardwood floor,
the half smile on your face
that isn’t a smile.
Each time you walk
out the door I miss
the tips of our fingers
touching in a long goodbye,
the feel of my hand
on the back of your sweater.

*

Tere Sievers lives in Long Beach California with her husband and four chickens and teaches in the OLLI program at CSULB. She attends a weekly poetry workshop run by her friend and gifted poet, Donna Hilbert. In that place she has learned to see clearly the joys of a long life as well as how to survive its losses. Her poems have appeared in ONE ART, A Year of Being Here, Nerve Cowboy, Picture Show Press and others.