by Cristine A. Gruber

Day old coffee lays thick in the pot; three days of dishes grow green in the sink.

Still clutching her shirt, he stumbles to the kitchen and stands barefoot and shivering. His once ocean-blue pajamas are now a sickly threadbare-gray.

The heartless sun begins its morning journey. Life moves forward.

Bringing the shirt to his cheek, he tries to remember the scent of her skin.

Cristine A. Gruber writes from sunny, Southern California. She’s had work featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, California Quarterly, The Homestead Review, Iodine Poetry Journal, Miller’s Pond, The Penwood Review, Poem, Red River Review, The Tule Review, Wilderness House Literary Review, and The Write Place at the Write Time. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, is available from http://buybooksontheweb.com. More of Cristine’s work can be found and enjoyed at http://sierraviewjournal.blogspot.com/