There’s a weight in the belly for an hour or so before, when you know the time is coming.
There’s a knot in your chest with the last hug, the cheerful “Drive safe”,
The last closing of the door.
And perhaps a quiet kind of sadness as you wash up the cup they used and tidy away their presence,
Make like they were never even there.
But the smell of them on your sheets doesn’t fade so fast,
And you’ll spend another night alone and awake in the dark.
(Eh, clumsy, but it was there to be written)