Sunset

If you look closely you can see her laying there looking out the French Doors at the setting sun. 

 She’d be talking to me, occupying our days with a conversation about our lives mostly.  Our children always.  She’d wait for the setting sun, always amazed at the sheer simple beauty of this ordinary thing.  She could make all things interesting to me by a turn of a phrase, an emphasis on something I’d always failed to notice.  

Now I sit and look at the bed, the sun has set and darkness prevails, and realize I’m alone.  I’m so alone my heart physically aches.