I miss the soft hair that
I would run my dainty fingers through
All the time 
After you would playfully surprise me from behind,
Wrapping your safe arms around my young waist while I giggled and tried to turn around
And tickle you.
I miss when we'd stroll out of the house, I ahead of you, hoping you'd catch up, yet
bent over and coughing up laughter;
Then you'd pick me up and whirl around,
Shining your teeth with every turn then
Gently lowering me to the soft ground.
I miss the careful fingers
briskly grabbing my hand,
Precariously placing themselves between each of mine perfectly.
I miss you--
Or at least I'm trying to.