Glossary of What I'll Miss

Apfelschorle, always. The ache of floorboards 
at 4 am, the wide-eyed sound of evening bells. 

Tempelhof on Tuedays, 
the top bunk and no topsheet. 

Every weekend watching traffic at the four-way,  
steeping tea, lilting about in the naked light. 

I will stop gathering memories like eggs; 
instead, this is the continuation— 

the clatter of bottles in a bag, 
the pant of a four-story staircase, 

the last of the postcard stamps, 
paprika potatoes, peaches in paper. 

I’ll miss bike lanes, bi-colored crossing signals,
the loose laughter between days of hand-holding 

and dancing on the U-Bahn and demanding 
another evening under the dome of denial. 

I’ll miss spontaneous Sundays, 
the seafoam-silk of your eyes, 
this countdown like the last season of serenity. 

*Inspired by Claire Wahmanholm’s Missing Glossary