Musings on a Bus Ride

Poetry by | September 21, 2008

As I sit here beside you
I realize how our lives are enmeshed
intertwined like our hands now
That when you’ll let go
My hand can still scratch, hold, touch
do what hands normally do
but it will always grope for yours
Seek your sweaty palms
Miss it’s warmth
Feel empty with the spaces
in between my fingers which
your long tapered fingers
with dirty uneven nails usually fill

—-
Floraine is an industrial engineer, MBA student and aspiring entrepreneur. You may visit her blog at floraine.blogspot.com.

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