If I Were Not to Wake Tomorrow

A poem for the woman I’d miss most.

As she sleeps…

If I were not to wake tomorrow,

Not greet the morning’s gentle light,

I’d miss the songs the blue jays sing

To stir the soul at dawn’s first sight.

I’d miss that sip—so bold, so deep—

Of coffee warming up my bones,

A fire’s roar, a blanket’s wrap,

Its hush, its warmth, its dancing yellow tones.

I’d miss my children’s laughter pure,

Like windchimes dancing in the air,

The golden sun upon my skin,

A gift that lingers soft and fair.

I’d miss the strength from muscles spent,

The triumph found in sweat and strain,

The daily chats with my loving mom,

Our words carry on like an endless summer rain.

I’d miss my cup of afternoon tea,

The grounding calm it brings to me,

The taste of food that’s grown with love,

Fresh from the earth, wild and free.

I’d miss a book that takes me far,

A world inside each written line,

But most of all, I’d miss the peace

Of lying in her arms—divine.

My wife, my home, my harbor light,

Her warmth, her strength, her gentle grace—

If I were not to wake tomorrow,

She’d be the one I’d most embrace.

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