The Room We Knew

Your blue mug sleeps beside the sink,
A ring of tea gone cold,
The calendar still has your mark
From the night the pipes froze.
I took the long way past the shop,
The one we used to go
The owner asked if you’re okay
I said, I think you’re great.

I’m learning how to leave a place
Without erasing what it gave;
Your coat is gone, the hook remains,
A small and ordinary ache,
And when the morning crosses through
I let it find the room we knew.

The upstairs neighbor fixed the stair
That used to catch your heel;
I kept the chipped old bowl you liked
Though no one eats from it;
Your sister sent a photograph
Of snow along the coast;
I wrote a dozen things to say
Then wished you both the most.

I’m learning how to leave a place
Without erasing what it gave;
Your voice is gone, the sound remains,
A small and ordinary ache,
And when the morning crosses through
I let it find the room we knew.

Some things don’t need a final word
The keys, your dress, the Sunday bread;
I can be grateful, I can hurt,
And still make room for what comes next.

I’m learning how to leave a place
And keep the good it gave;
Your coat is gone, the hook remains
But I can walk on through the day.
I’m learning how to love mistakes
Without erasing anything;
You’re gone and only I remain,
A small and ordinary ache.
And when the morning crosses through
I let it find the room we knew

Your pillow’s sleeping beside mine
In case you change your mind.