“Gavin” (3/9/21)

Little yellow house

across the street

spent hours,

moments of my day at random

counting the cars,

one, two

1, 2

I, II

hoping I see 3,

I know it won't happen,

I know that it's a childish wish,

There's a child in me,

she misses you,

wishing to see you

one more time.

She's always asking me:

"Where did he go?"

I sigh and look out at that yellow house,

It's not yours, but I still hope to see you there.

For now I'll just sit here,

twiddling my thumbs,

and telling that expecting and naïve little girl,

"Maybe next year,"

Maybe next year