Stumble Back To Me

I used to know Peace so well.

We used to chase lightning bug blips and barrel toward toad croaks

through burrs and bushes and creek beds. We used to exchange books

and trade chuckles and swap Halloween candy.

It used to radiate from me – reflect off me like sapphires,

topaz twinkling. The Peace.

I don't remember the exact day she left,

but I've been trying to find her ever since.

There were times I convinced myself I'd live fine without her.

There were times I could've sworn I saw her in crowds,

spotting the bounce of a pigtail before it danced out of sight.

There were times I tricked myself that other things would bring her to me,

and someday soon we'd Foxtrot in the driveway together once again.

There's little I wouldn't give up for another evening with her.

Another moment. Another day spent blowing dandelion seeds,

popping holes into buckeye leaves, crushing autumn flowers to mill.

Maybe one day she will come back to me – stumble back to me

like a drunkard, a stray tabby, a lost soul whose finally hitch-hiked home.

I used to know Peace so well.

I guess I'll keep searching now. Has anyone seen her?

Have you?