Missing.

I scream ..... they scatter
I beg ..... they sneer

I plead ..... they laugh

I cry ..... they recess

I yearn ..... they hide

Why do words evade me

Where are the dances we used to engage

Stories weigh heavy on my heart

I can't help but feel I'm missing something

So I ask for them to please return

In Silence.

In the misty morning light
Upon the hard packed gravel road
She walks in silence.

In the afternoon heat
With the ebb and flow of the lake lapping at her feet
She walks in silence.

In the evening hours
Through the towering pines
She walks in silence.

In the darkness of night
Under the hand-stitched patchwork quilt
She sleeps in silence.

Where the Sidewalk Ends.

by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.