It’s not a passing thought or a once a month affair
It’s when you are making dinner or brushing your hair
Or the night you are going to the prom
Or the afternoon while mowing the lawn
It’s the hours spent looking for their face
And realize it’s no longer there
It’s when a casserole can make you cry
And you can’t exactly say why
It’s the looking at pictures and talking to the wind
It’s them never coming back again.
Not when you will see them in a week, maybe a month or two
Not a phone call away or simply finding something else to do
It’s the phone that keeps on ringing and living in the past
It’s no new stories and ones told too fast.
Missing you is not just a phase to go through
It’s living in memories while trying to make some new.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
What It Means To Be Missing
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5 comments:
beautifully felt as I read your poetry, God do I love you girl! I think "Herding Quinlans" and our links are available in heaven. After all, doesn't the internet travel on the winds? "Second star to the left and straight on till morning." Peter Pan
Your words ring so very brave and true. (Tough stuff to think about for most people.) I still sometimes forget, and check my phone for "messages".
Heartfelt and very moving. I love the way you write.
You're definitely a talented writer, Sadie - this line has stayed in my head since I read it: "It’s no new stories and ones told too fast."
Very powerful and beautiful.
Sadie...have you always had this kind of talent to write? Wow.....that is good stuff....perfectly said. I love you God Daughter and I do promise you....your Dad is watching you more than you think...so you might want to think some of those late nights in the dorm :)
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