Writing Reasons

I long
for that place we were together.

It might have been under trees
in the car with the radio on
feeling endless and looking out over the canyon.

It could have been the morning
you brought me hot coffee,
black the way I like it,
and cringed when you spilled it on the bed.

Maybe it was how you looked at me just now
from across the hallway, your half smile
reminding me why I put these

words on pages.