Without Your Good Morning

Perhaps I miss you more than I should,
it was my turn to go but here I hang
a bare branch on the family tree.
Life is not always kind.
We grew from the same roots
and faithful to our seeds
thrived on the ground we stood on.
Now with roots shriveled by time
you fall while I teeter
in precarious balance against
winter’s blast. I wrestle my way
through another season
deprived of your support.
I cope with the age you should have had—
how still the silence without
your Good Morning to start my day.