A special kind of friend
wanders through the beautiful forest -
reddish earth - soft,
barely a footstep heard.
Sun streams through
the pine trees.
I cannot find you.
I don't think I have ever met you.
Something is missing.

I am searching for my fear
in the alleyways of my childhood,
on streets where I used to live.
I go deep into
my sub-terranean consiousness.
I search.
I find things.
I keep looking.
Something is missing.

I am looking for the connections
between fear and fun -
between anxiety and peace of mind.
I am finding answers.
I am finding questions.
Something is missing.

Today the sun shines and twinkles.
The air is cool and fresh.
The jazz festival has started
and the energy sizzles.
Something is missing.

I sit and think and ponder
and I sit and try to escape
into nothingness.
Something
is still
missing.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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