Driving over McClure Pass,
stunned by the pink sunrise
draping the snowy West Elks,
I remember dozens of times
we drove this route and love,
it makes me miss you. The way
car washes make me miss you.
The way pumpkin spice lattes
and green tractors make me
miss you. The way breathing
and walking down the street
make me miss you. And I think
of how much it hurts every
minute you aren’t here.
I think of the tears, the fits,
the fights, the long nights,
the whispers, the tenderness,
and my love, I would,
I would do it all again.