Eighteen Hours since your Loss

My strength is sapped
My blood has been tapped and packed
Into four suitcases of souvenirs
And chocolate that flew back
To an admiring India.

My vitality has been brewed
Into fifty ml bottles of perfume
Silver wrapped, gift packed,
With love, forever,
To India.

And what this clever poem means to say
Is that I miss you so, I miss the way
Of your love and the curve of your embrace
And the concerned, spectacled gaze
Of your parenthood. I miss you so
Eighteen hours into your absence
Eighteen hours since your loss.