I miss sharing a mirror every morning
after waking you up, groggily singing your name
ever since we were two tiny bunkmates. I loved
watching life slow-flow through you dawning,
knowing that the last word you had said
into the previous dark
was to me.
Did we ever notice
that 79 & 21 make 100,
just 8 away from the Hindu holy number
the first time I left you?