For Grace, My Late Wife

by G.H. McIlveen

We had what many like us
do not have - moments which,
in retrospect,
were moments
of joy,
small odysseys
for small things,
easy love
on hot afternoons, good need,
one for the other. I remember
driving like a Frenchman
for 90 minutes
because I missed
your face,
your walk,
your embrace, the time
you spent in preparation
for a meal, or merely
to look in shop windows. You are

the company
I would so dearly love
to keep
again, the steady voice
which eased me from despair, the woman
of talent and grace
who isn't there
when the necessary day
pushes me from sleep.

© G.H. McIlveen, 2003

G.H. McIlveen lives in Clear Lake, Fla., where he manages a boat-for-hire shop and writes poetry and short fiction in his spare time. This is his first published poem.