Better Gift

Dawn, your favorite time of the day.
Geneva in summer is effervescent.
Your father's chair still creaks.
Remember the old fig tree, just outside our bedroom window?
The squirrels do not live there anymore.

The walls miss you coughing.
The wooden floor boards, the scraping of your pink bunny slippers.
I miss hearing you breathe,
when I lie awake all night.

I remember you dancing, like always.
Wearing that silver anklet you got from him.
The soft lilting sounds hanging in the air.
I never could give you a better gift.

You always looked so fragile, almost like a mirage.
Each time you went swimming in the lake,
I imagined a part of you had dissolved away.
Now, I search for those parts in its blue depths.

I went to see Edward.
We are now best friends,
With you no longer there to make us fight.
He knows you loved him more.
Next time, my dear wife, I will insist on being first.

First to love you and the first to go.
I cannot keep letting go every time.
It is too much effort for my old bones.
I must rest a while now.

We will see each other soon,
-- Love.