Auditory Mirage

In between sleep and waking
I hear your voices gently arguing
About food and granddaughters
And think, I must have missed them

Preparations

The business after departure puts a lump in my throat
It no longer matters if an outfit is flattering
Only that it is aptly somber for the occasion
And fitting enough to meet you in;
That last expression of repose
I wonder if I can truly accept it