I miss the world as it was.
The quiet beauty of being small.
Long afternoons turning to twilight,
Small fists gently clasped around
The majesty of fireflies, silently glowing.
Racing streetlights to make it home
Before the curfew of fiery sunsets.

I miss the world as it could be.
Friendships that should have blossomed
And lovers that could have been.
Books that are yet to be written
Collecting dust inside the authors mind.
Goals yearning to be accomplished
By doers not yet motivated to move.

I miss the world as it is.
Caught up in a phone or computer
Rather than looking up and smiling.
Perhaps buying a stranger there coffee,
Or simply saying hello to a neighbor.
Losing out on conversations because
Of ones emotions or differences.