You were not there. A poem.

You were not there.


I took flight and waited but you were not there.

The pilot was tall dark and handsome. Just like you.

We soared easily into the early afternoon sky.

Blue and white and windy.

Too windy to be safe.

We rocked, swayed, dropped, dipped, yelped (that was me)

And were ordered to return.

We did.

Landing smoothly despite the buffeting from all sides.

The shortest flight in history.

Going nowhere.

And yet…still I hoped… but you were not there.

Not waiting somewhere between sea and sky.

Some special place.

It had to be there…surely.

You would not leave, not completely.

Not forever.

I don’t know where else to look now.

Except deep inside my heart.

I wanted answers and found none.

Foolish. Obviously. Too late, this time.

Time to stop looking, searching, aching.

But how?


Helen Ducal. July 2014

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