I Miss Myself
I know the old apartment in the square lies empty and void…
Still, in the morning, the sun breaks in;
At night the street lamps dance shadows on the walls…
My memory is so strong, so vivid; I may as well be there.
I can hear the sound of breathing;
Little breaths, precious breaths…
These are the ones that count the most,
The ones I protect with my life;
It is this life that seemed to whirl away.
It is the recognition of the passing,
The knowledge of change that creates uneasiness…
There seemed to be a plan; a part I was cast for…
Now the play I was in, reached the finale;
I loved the character I played,
Still, I hear those little breaths, the precious ones…
I know that this has not changed,
I know to keep what really matters in the forefront,
Clear in my mind…
As for the play, as for that character,
I guess that is why they have revivals…
© Joseph James 4/21/15
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