We speak everyday
Yet you do not know me.
The very thought makes me sad.
Was it the years away,
When I volunteered myself
To boarding school
That built the bridge
We cannot cross?
Or was it simply Time that passed us by
Without a warning
Sweeping the years along with it
As it floated by?
And now there you stand -
At the finish line,
I can faintly see your silhouette,
Hear your beckoning voice.
At the other cliff,
I patiently wait
For the tides to turn
Or the bridge to magically reappear
(Which both know that’s not happening
Any day soon.) I wrote this poem
Just to let you know
That I still miss you sometimes.
You know?
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