I am tossing in bed
Heart not in the right place,
I mumble heartburn but truth be told
It is my heart yearning for lost time,
I want to know what happened to pictures between 11 and 14? Those are the lost years,
Lost because that child refused to be present,
Refused to acknowledge the family of her and me.
Now on the brink of adulthood,
She is gone from my arms,
This afternoon,
During lunch I happen to witness a child,
Around 6 or 7, sitting alone at a table,
A iPad and headphones to keep her company,
She is engaged through the video,
Alive and bubbly through the video,
I asked myself where are her parents,
Why isn’t someone,
Family,
Sitting there next to her?
I miss those years,
Six and seven, I miss those years with a ferocious burn,
My arms miss the cuddling at night,
Telling make believe adventures of Bob and Ernest, penguin explorers to a bright eyed child yearning for family,
And I yearning for her,
She’ll come back, they say,
Sure, and time will heal wounds,
Heart wounds,
The night,
I am sitting alone in the dark,
Waiting for the embrace of night to lull me asleep.
