I think of you
I think of you not
pulling out these thoughts as petals of each day
I think of you as I wake up in the morning
your pillow dented only by my elbow, by my book
with the memory both stale and familiar
I look around the house for traces of you that are not yet used
Over and over
I match pictures of you to my memories
my own Solitaire
Author’s Comment: This poem was written June 30, 2009, 6 months after the death of my husband. In late October, 2008, he had a diagnosis of cancer, and six weeks later, he died. As I read the poem now, I can return to the experiences described. I can revisit the fragile healing that was slowly taking place. Now, these years later, the poem helps me realize that the life I lived when I wrote it, muted by grief, is behind me. Reminiscences of my husband are still ever-present, but I have more in my daily life than memories.
Bio: Sharon F. Cramer, Ph.D., SUNY Distinguished Service Professor Emerita at Buffalo State College, was an academic leader and scholar for 26 years before returning to poetry. Recently, she has had poems accepted for publication in Bird’s Eye Review, The Journal, Red River Review, Tertulia Magazine, and Wilderness House Literary Review. She is the author of three scholarly books and 25 articles and has given over 100 presentations and keynotes in 23 states and two provinces in Canada.