A bruised toe from a birthday past,

The happiest one for a while,

Black and receding like my memories of you,

Wondering if it would ever go,

Then it went too soon,

A new affection now formed for my black toe,

I'm not sure I want it to go,

Too late, it is growing out, like the Doctor said,

A calendar of bodily matter,

My toe a timer,

A barometer of feeling,

Soon the bruise will be gone,

Empty thoughts reconciled by the salvation of healing.