There's a pair
Of missing people,
Walking in the rain.
The pavement rough
Beneath their feet,
Scuffing at their shoes.
They walk together,
Through the puddles...
To the rhythm of
Their skipping hearts.
Their joined fingers are laced
With memories,
Happy and sad,
But shared together.
Their shoulders bump
Seeking each other's
Sweet familiar warmth
To guard them,
From the patter
Of the cold water.
There's a pair of Missing people.
You've passed them on
The street.
They eat at your favorite
Coffee shop,
And laugh at old jokes
To the sound
Of sipping lattes.
Their hands know
One another well.
And their smiles
Are always adorned
With thoughts of each other.
There's a pair of Missing people,
He plays with her hair.
There's a pair of Missing people,
As she leans against his chest.
There's a pair
Of missing people,
Who love each other so much.
But they were torn
Away.
There's a pair of Missing people...
Who only came close,
To being born.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC
There's a pair
Of missing people,
Walking in the rain.
The pavement rough
Beneath their feet,
Scuffing at their shoes.
They walk together,
Through the puddles...
To the rhythm of
Their skipping hearts.
Their joined fingers are laced
With memories,
Happy and sad,
But shared together.
Their shoulders bump
Seeking each other's
Sweet familiar warmth
To guard them,
From the patter
Of the cold water.
There's a pair of Missing people.
You've passed them on
The street.
They eat at your favorite
Coffee shop,
And laugh at old jokes
To the sound
Of sipping lattes.
Their hands know
One another well.
And their smiles
Are always adorned
With thoughts of each other.
There's a pair of Missing people,
He plays with her hair.
There's a pair of Missing people,
As she leans against his chest.
There's a pair
Of missing people,
Who love each other so much.
But they were torn
Away.
There's a pair of Missing people...
Who only came close,
To being born.
Request permission to use this poem