Lost Things
Of all the things
I miss the most
it must be the weightless
loss of care.
The summer’s days,
kicked out of walls
adventures lived
and dreams built
out of coffee cans
and warped two by fours.
Of all the things
I miss the most,
it’s the softness
of a first kiss
the anticipation and yearning
before politics
or power plays
muddled the field
and made every touch of passion
a pawn on a game board.
something to be won
something to be earned.
something lost.
Of all the things
I miss the most,
It must have been their tiny hands
wrapped around my finger
and the sleepy warmth
of their heads tucked
into my shoulder
we were safe there,
just the three of us.
Before the world came down on them
with screens and images
of unreachable ideals
skipping meals and
pinching skin.
Of all the things
I miss the most
It was feeling
like the world was someplace
magical and filled
with potential for
the good
the better
the brighter future ahead.
Before the dark gray blanket
covered my eyes
and suffocated all
dawning hope
Sarah Reichert Author 