on those quiet, Saturday mornings,
all introspective and such.
I wasn’t lonely
watching the moonlight trickle
through the grove of trees outside my window
or skipping down the street,
my hand empty and my heart full of song.
Little by little, loneliness snuck up on me,
your legs, still bowed as they ran ahead,
and I struggled to keep up,
leaving me with memories made
and memories missed,
trodden under
and run over.
By Susan M.
