Breakfast with You

I wanted to make breakfast
The morning of our anniversary –
Fried eggs, waffles, boiled sausages, walnut muffins,
Brew a pot of Nicaraguan coffee;
And eat together in our quaint living room
Recalling memories, holding hands
Listening to songs that make us happy.

But you woke up at six

In a dangerous hurry and said to me,
I’m so late for OB rounds, Babe,
I don’t think I can do breakfast, 
Is that okay?
I’ll make up for it another time.

I said,

Yes, that’s okay. I understand.

You blew me a kiss and ran to the shower,

Swung vehemently, to the right,
the hot water knob,
Your body disappearing, within seconds,
Into a shawl of steam.

You dried yourself in haste,

Put on a crisp white shirt,
a pair of checkered pants, a blue spotted tie,
A belt around your waist the color of my skin,
And left to go to work.

I made breakfast anyway,

And ate in silence
Holding onto a photograph of you –
You, smiling behind a piece of glass,
So beautiful –I craved your touch
And felt your presence, as if
You were here, sitting with me,
Recalling memories, holding hands
And listening to music we love.