A simple piece of paper, written for Anna Grace

a simple piece of paper
stuffed under a book
full of words I never knew about
feelings I crave
I wish I could hear you say them
Or really anything at all
A simple piece of paper
scrapes layers of scars
back to the rawness of your loss
back to the hopelessness
a child so close
and a million miles away
growing her own tomatoes,
so I grow some too.
Anything to make me feel closer
Anything to make her real
Not just a kid who once lived here
Not just a story I tell when I am sad
Not anything but her.
My Angel.
My baby of the heart.
Lost to me.
I hope someday I find you.