Missed

I missed you 

yesterday. 

I think I probably do 

every day.

I felt like

if I’d 

opened 

the door

you would have

been in front of me,

like I was

ten and would have

run up to you

and tried to wrap 

my arms around 

your belly,

red corduroy 

trousers,

with a white 

shirt tucked 

tight, right

into the warmth 

of your presence. 

I missed you yesterday. 

I wished that you were here. 

I suppose you were.