Not Here, But Everywhere

You are not here, there is a

distinct lack of your physical self

in this home, in this bed and in my life,

but this house has you in every corner,

on every chair, in all places at all times,

even in my tool cupboard.

I see you at the computer,

in the kitchen dancing to Michael Buble,

I see you cuddle and kiss the children

and pick up their things from the floor.

You are in Bali painting Steiner's colours,

but you are here reminding me at

every turn that you are my wife, my twin, my ghost

I feed the dogs standing to count the stars

looking back at our home watching you

in the children's area tidying up their

enthusiastic mess, curling your hair

around your ear as you bend to rescue

Little Leo from the clutches of Shredder

I do not miss you because you are

in the faces of our children

and in all the subtle nuances in my life

as all my subtleties stem from you.

But now I go to sleep and

I want to feel your warmth,

so come home safe to me

and fill this house with you.