When I do it, I remember how it was with us.
Then my hands remember too,
and you're with me again, just the way it was.
After work when you'd come in and
turn the TV off and sit on the edge of the bed,
filling the room with gasoline smell from your overalls,
trying not to wake me which you always did.
I'd breathe out long and say,
'Hi Jess, you tired baby?'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem