Ever since I haven’t heard from you,
I’ve been reaching out to every bird
and butterfly that flies my way, and
asking: Do you have any word from
my loving baby?
I even speak to the trees to see if their
network of roots have heard from her.
From every passing cloud I ask: Where
can she be worries me?
Her 5 senses were always as bright
as a freshly picked flower with how
she danced and sang—to whatever
she could see, hear, smell or touch.
I wait for her to speak to me.