fourteen yellow number notes

all stacked up in a row

top ones hiding those lying

larger, hopeful, below

I know it may be foolish but

that never stopped me before.

on every Sunday night my

crickets begin to chirp

when your sun is rising somewhere

I’ve never been before.

your day dawns on a week anew

my fingers peel back the old

greet a number that reminds me

you’re closer than you were before.

I don’t know when I’ll see you

I don’t know where you’ll go

but I can’t stop counting

the weeks away

until you come back home.