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.