I thought of you. 
Often I do. Nothing specific,
not always. No particular time
or place. No clear dimensions. 
Sometimes. Wide awake. 
Even with night on my eyelids. 
When you are not there,
I can still think. 
I am moved 
by gravity or grace. 
It could be a mood, perhaps 
a song, the scent 
of remembrance.
I know it as I know you.
Daydreaming or otherwise.

© 2019 j.g. lewis

April is Poetry Month