In shadows cast by memories, where time does softly wane,
A tapestry of longing weaves a melancholy strain.
A fleeting glimpse, a stolen glance, a meeting undefined,
Yet in that transient moment, a connection so entwined.
A face, a presence, etched upon the canvas of the mind,
The echo of a smile, a puzzle we can’t find.
A meeting brief, a passing fleet, in life’s relentless flow,
Yet missing echoes loudly, like whispers soft and slow.
The sunsets paint in hues of gold, a silhouette now gone,
A mystery unsolved, a yearning lingers on.
Through crowded streets or empty halls, the absence feels so near,
A ghost of presence haunting, as time sheds its silent tear.
The heart, a seeker in the mist of what could be,
A dance with what’s elusive, a yearning to be free.
The hands that touched the fleeting, now grasp at empty air,
The missing, like a phantom limb, a weight too much to bear.
In dreams, the mind replays the scene, a loop of what’s been lost,
A tapestry unraveling, at an immeasurable cost.
A mirage in the desert of a life that moves ahead,
Yet missing blooms perennial, like flowers from the dead.
The canvas of existence, painted with what’s missed,
A gallery of yearning, where the heart cannot resist.
For in the realm of missing, where distance takes its toll,
A single meeting echoes, an everlasting soul.
And so we navigate the world, where paths may never cross,
Yet missing is a testament to what we count as loss.
In the tapestry of life, where threads of moments blend,
Missing is a melody, a song that has no end.