I picture you laughing, standing atop of the stair.
I smile to myself as I call out your name
before I realize you're not there,
of course you're not there.
I long for the days where we lay down and talked,
talked of the future and plans to excite.
We lounged in the day and we bonded at night -
bonded at night.
Down in the cotton fields I still see you,
feel you and hear your sound.
To be so close and so far now:
guess I'll be seeing you around...
by Jonathan Tudor
Read the story behind this poem
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