Dad's Anniversary

I can feel you here as I look out the window and I see a tree branch moving with weight of the wind. It is so hard not being able to see you but then again when a cool draft moves across my shoulder I can almost see you. Your warm smooth hands, carressing my shoulder, my hair, my face. I am waiting to smell your Old English Cologne in the air. Hanging like music, suspended in the air. I would like to hear your footsteps, see your worn-in slippers in the corner of the room. Here you whistle a cheerful tune as you spin your clay pot in your hands, carefully, dreamily. Good night Dad, but never, good-bye.