The Missing

A Poem

I miss the possibility of everything and the impossibility of nothing.

I miss believing in fairy tales and that best friends are forever.

I miss waking up at Grandma’s house and seeing the shoeshine box beneath the armoire.

I miss watching Grandpa shave with a straight razor and a bristly brush.

I miss Grandma’s curlers and her hand on my cheek.

I miss the smell of mothballs and the taste of graded carrots on Tuesday afternoons.

I miss the long stretch of green grass and the coos of pigeons at the train station.

I miss my yellow dress and melting ice cream on a summer day.

I miss the cold creek at summer camp and walks through the cow field.

I miss the smell of campfire and the endless August sky,

but most of all, I miss you.

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