Brushed

The little films now,
are the most monochrome.
Significant routines.
taken for granted.

Over two years,
and through the seasons.
We blew hot and cold.
Underpinned by reassurance.

The goodnight kisses,
and i love baby's.
Those playful held hands,
before slumber.

This morning,
over tea and toast.
The absence of marmalade,
was evident.

Like your whisper.