I Don't Want To

I find I don't want to number the days
That will too soon float into years.
I don't want to know, really,
How long it's been
Since that last puff of air
Blew outward.
I don't want to consider
The length of days,
The breadth of years
Without her, the second fruit I bore
With dreams overflowing,
That now are scattered upon the wind,
Those that were cast off
The mountain on a lovely spring day.
I don't want to tally weeks or months
Without the laughter or the spunk
That was hers.
I want to ignore the ache,
The tears seeping silent,
And simply believe that she's still here,
Soon to be seeking shelter within my embrace,
Shedding her own silent tears,
Wanting the comfort of her mother's love.
And I know, oh I know,
This steady stream of days apart
Will become a river flowing, away,
Eroding stories and pictures.
Memories are grasped tightly in this moment
Causing my heart to drip steadily until
The faucet of time twists off the flow
And I am left barren,
Until I am able
To endure this separation,
Which lasts mere moments,
And can wait, patiently,
To feast my eyes
Upon her
Once more.