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Sometimes, when I think of you
I feel like I’m catching air
With my fingers.
I close them
To try to keep you here
For a few minutes more
But when I open them, to check,
They’re still empty.

You weren’t here for long
But for long enough;
For us to know you,
To know ourselves,
To know what we’re made of.
Sometimes,
It’s all we get:
Some time.

One day,
I’ll close my hand again
And this time,
Yours will be there,
In mine, holding it.
Your little fingers curling around my own
Like I dream they do now.

I just have to wait.
I have to wait
For the day my life
Begins again.
For the day my life
Becomes real.

One day,
When we’re both
Alive,
Both home,
I won’t be
Catching air with my fingers anymore.

——

In response to prompt number three on this week’s list and shared over at Mama Kat’s

Mamaโ€™s Losinโ€™ It

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