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Sometimes I wish that
I could hide within
That crook between
Your warm neck and left shoulder
Where a chin and cheek
Is supposed
To rest.
Crawl right in,
Curl into a ball
To dissappear
Into the shadow,
My small body
A Thumbelinan marvel.
From my perch,
I would see the dashboard
Of your car,
Sometimes the rain
Smattering the windshield,
Sometimes just the
Long highway.
I'd watch you,
Singing to yourself,
Talking to people,
Buying your favorite
Pack of gum.
In short,
Living your
every-day-like-the-next.
The life that I,
In my great loss,
Have only half been able
To be a part off.