I couldn’t find you today.
Pen in hand, paper crisp and oatmeal, and waiting…
The smell of the leather that protects the sum of my
hopes and dreams that always drew you….out, was
warm and familiar.
The specs of clouds dusted the overhead and the
empty and pretty room filled with more waiting.
But then nothing.
Where were you, friend?
I was alone and also lonely.
I couldn’t find you today.
If creation was my choice and death was the toll, I’d
rest my head and fall.
To receive that one word description that would give
you back to me again, written in bold and black, I’d
gladly, with my last breath, pay.
Only you. Only me.
One more time.
I couldn’t find you today.
Pen in hand, paper crisp and oatmeal, and waiting…
Waiting.
RW
