I've been sleeping in a bed far too big for me.
I wake up to find sheets scrawling out your name.
Hands clasped into the image of your face.
The air filled with only the scents that remind me of you.
The smell of first snow,
The smell of early morning drowsiness.
The smell of new cut wood
And the smell of fresh brewed tea.
I wake up in this too big bed only feeling you beside me.
And every day when I wake up I think I’ll find you somehow.
If I just get up, look out into the kitchen you'll be standing there.
Scrawling notes across napkins and waiting for the water to boil.
But you never are.
You're always just a memory,
Something floating on the wind not fully perceived.
So I’ve been sleeping in a bed far too big for me
And all I can seem to think of is you.