As I comb the beach,
I look back.
I see you
in your favorite baseball cap
with that wide toothy smile
that brings sun to the cloudiest of days.
I stop
and wait for you.
I lace my fingers around your hand,
your soft, big, warm hand.

Now when I walk on the beach
wearing your favorite baseball cap,
I see you,
but it’s not you.
It’s only your ghost
that brings clouds to the sunniest of days.
I try,
but my hands remain empty of yours.

No more soft, big, warm hands,
no more toothy smiles
under baseball caps.
No more you,
just me.