Walking with my head down,

I am not prepared to look up,

And meet your eyes.

I am astonished.

You are not supposed to be here.

I’ve missed you,

I’ve moved past you, too.

So why does this sighting

Rock me to my toes?

You look the same.

I want to hug you,

But in no way would that be proper.

As I move past you,

To catch up with my crowd,

You say something to me.

How I used to long for that.

I mumble something quickly,

I have to catch up,

But I don’t want to leave you.

Then the door between us

Closes.

Once again, you’re gone.

Once again, I’m wistful.

s.d.c. date unknown

Author’s note: This was written around the time I was 17- 18 I think.