The suitcase is packed,
    but it feels too soon,
    too sudden—

    as if time ran ahead when we weren’t looking.

Five evenings,
    too brief,

    stretched wide in memory.

Each moment stitched
    with laughter,
    with warmth,

    with something unspoken but understood.

Now,
    the sky waits,
    a plane poised,

    taking me to salt air and rolling waves,

While you remain,
    wrapped in winter’s hush.

29 days—
    not forever,
    just long enough

    to feel the pull,
    to let the absence…
                       stoke the fire—

    instead of dimming it.

Every sunrise,
    a step closer.

Every night,
    a space held.

And soon enough,
    29 days will be yesterday,
    and I’ll be with you again,

    where I belong.