I didn't know I'd miss
the smell of musty parchment paper,
in a world full of books
free to sit
and climb into the pages:
a looming tower of different worlds
just a read away.
I didn't know I'd miss
the sight of bustling crowds,
a nest full of ants,
scattered,
each with their own story to tell.
I didn't know I'd miss
the touch of another's hands
without fear or surprise
but in normality of the gesture.
The rough woven crinkles,
of somebody else's story.
I didn't know I'd miss
the taste of sweets in town,
the freedom of the sugar,
surrounded by laughing friends
and the many coffee shops we'd go to
where we'd enjoy each other's company.
I didn't know I'd miss
the sound of church bells ringing
to signify someone's happy day,
a wedding or maybe a christening,
and the parade of flowers and bouquets,
we used to watch with curiosity.
I didn't know I'd miss
the liberty of these senses.
And how I used to think,
that my life was a bit boring.
(view the full edition)