We nearly had it,
   a yesterday that would’ve glowed—
   simple, ordinary,
   the kind that feels

   like it belongs to no one else.

But life called you elsewhere,
    I was left with only the shape of your absence.

Almost a yesterday,
     but not quite.

Almost a laugh shared
     in the same room.

Almost the hug to
 finish the night.

Instead we filled the space
        with text as voices,
        movies flickering across distance,

        long hours disguised as company.

Coal curled into Mom’s arms—
              silver lining
           against the gray.

I keep asking the clock
  for the day we missed,
      the one still due.

Is it yesterday, yet?
   The one we wanted,
  the one we planned?

I tell myself it’s waiting,
  quietly patient,
  folded like a note
  in tomorrow’s pocket—

  a yesterday deferred,
        but not denied.