I wonder what the day will be like
when you don’t ask me
to kiss your hands
before I leave
and then try to pull them
off your cheeks
pretending they’ve been stuck
with glue
or when we don’t do
our hand signals
for I love you
through the window
or three jumps in a row
popping in and out of sight
will you forget to ask me
to do the waltz
on my own
singing I Could Have Danced All Night
from My Fair Lady
or will you remember
but quietly decide
to spare yourself
the spectacle
how long will it last
that soft ache
of saying nothing
both of us knowing
these things have come
to an end.