Humans are
the store house of feelings,
Slave at
times of some,
One of which
is ‘missing’,
Turning you
into a doltish scum.
Whether for
family or for friends,
The feel of ‘I
miss you’,
Often blocks
your acumen,
Landing you
into a state of bedlam.
Desire to
run, run to the ones you miss,
Is the only
thought housing your head,
Cases and possibilities
soon pop up your mind,
Ways in
which the distance dwindle.
Sometime you
may feel,
Pearls rolling
down your cheeks,
Eyes all wet
and vision being blurred,
A strange
feel of pain accompanying on top of all.
Wishing is
all you are left to do,
Willing to
meet the ones you miss,
True importance
of beloved ones is realized,
Mostly on
times when they are badly missed.
