Sighing softly to myself.
I missed something, didn't I?
When you passed me by and looked my way?
My head was down, my feet moved swiftly ... intent on my journey.
I didn't even notice you, not really.
I sensed your gaze, felt it brush over me.
A whispered word, a soft caress.
I thought it the wind.
I didn't know.
Now ... you are absent from my world.
An empty cup sets opposite mine.
The pages of an old story ... unfolded, unopened, unfinished.
I didn't know.
If I close my eyes ... allow the moment to take me, I can still see you. Smiling.
Shaking your head at my childlike ways ... my silliness.
You always seemed to question who I was.
If I were real or if this were all pretend.
If my serenity, in the midst of all the turmoil was genuine or something I put on ... just for show.
Like a new mink on Christmas Morn.
I didn't know.
Now .... I sit here, sighing softly to myself.
Choking back the tears that threaten to flow.
Trying so desperatley to understand ... I didn't know.
Forgive me ... I didn't know.
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J. A. Stroud a.k.a. GlassPoet.
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