Flannel

I pull the flannel of your shirt closer to me
as the winds howl outside and the rain pours down.
I can imagine that it is your arms, wrapped around me
shielding me and warming me.

Spring is coming soon, but you won't be here to see it -
At least not in a physical sense.
The trees are already showing the pink blossoms,
and the daffodils have bloomed.
A vase of them sits next to your picture,
where you stand, wearing this shirt
that I wear now.
Your eyes smile back at me from the photograph...
You lean against a fence,
with the wild river and mountains behind you,
as if you could turn and fly down that gorge at any second.

I pull the shirt closer about me,
a remnant of your physical being,
still wrapped around me,
still keeping me warm.