Lucy

Sometimes Henry lies there awake at night, thinking about her.

Henry thinks about his close female friends often.

The beautiful and sexy Lucy is his closest.

He misses her all the time for specific reasons.

Why wouldn’t he miss her?

It’s difficult not to think of someone who has driven you to the brink of love.

He misses the way her humor makes him feel like a kid again

and the way her gaze had made him feel like a protector.

In certain moments Henry feels that he is the man-child

who wants to be daddy and keep a little of her child-like spirit alive.

When he recalls her kiss,

with soft pink lips as smooth as rose pedals,

and the way she looks back at him like a guardian angel in embrace,

he can’t help but miss her.

Henry misses Lucy’s skin,

a white satin blanket that calls for a snuggle.

But a daddy and a guardian angel he knows not how to be.

Lucy is twice the mommy and the real daddy provides.

Her real “daddy” supports the kids.

Her real “daddy” supports the children.

Her real guardian angel watches over her,

even from Heaven’s diesel-fueled chariot far away.

He may never kiss Lucy again.

He may never hold her or play daddy again.

Even though he is at peace,

he falls asleep, wishing he had met Lucy a decade ago.