When I don’t see you, here or in the places we’ve been
in prairie meadows or in these trailing hills
I am lonesome, listening to how the ocean spills
blue waves play a sorrowful song
I get lost in thought, ruminate long on our walks
my feet here in these tiny flowers, the ones that we picked
I think of all the gardens, yesterday, today and tomorrow
my eyes fly far off with birds, disappearing
into some heavenly place, where you are.