Waiting For My Son To Call

There was a 30% chance of rain this dreary morning
but it came anyway to perfectly match my mood.

I miss you, my darling. My first love. My only.

The rain is my tears.
The pattering puddles are my splintered reflections.
The sky, grey and dark-
my heart.
The clouds, well, they’re nebulous
just like us.

We used to be apart of one another. You lived inside of me.
We became each other, and now, we are just apart.
You have moved on, and on, and on.
And I, I am a mere afterthought
while you are every thought I have.

-Jesse Haydn

Published by Jesse Haydn Poetry

The written word is life. I am the proverbial poet-at-heart.

6 thoughts on “Waiting For My Son To Call

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