That’s where I thought I’d find you,
on the bench we used to visit.

I laid out your favorite flowers
and that blanket you liked.
I stayed a while,
whispering everything I wanted to say to the
water, the sand and the gulls.

Thinking maybe that you’d join me
as a hand on my shoulder that you’d worry I couldn’t
feel, but I would.

I know it’s just myself that I was talking to.
That the way the wind laughed in perfect
timing with my jokes was just the wind doing
the only thing it knows.

That when the willow sighed its leaves into my
lap, and the tears began to fall, it was not your hands
that had moved them—they bowed only to the breath
of the ocean.

And I know that dying is the most natural
thing that any of us can do
but I never pictured myself, sitting here,
looking out at this horizon without you.