Poetic Justice

By my side

I sense her next to me,
As I walk with my head down,
And my hands stuffed in my pockets.
I feel her aching presence,
As I stare out my window,
At nothing in particular.

I could even swear,
That as my tears flow down to
Moisten my cheeks,
I feel a hand,
Wiping the droplets away.

I cannot see the hand,
But I can feel a gentle touch,
Gracing my wet cheeks,
To make them dry again.

Sometimes at night,
When my eyes refuse to close,
And my mind refuses to take a break,
I see her stand before me.

She wears a silk orange blouse,
With her dark hair,
Cascading down her back.
She has a bright smile pinned on her
Face.

I can only picture her in this way,
As it is the only picture Ive seen of Her.
I wish I could imagine her in another
Way.
I wish I could see her frown,
Scold,
Laugh,
I wish I could hear her voice,
Just once.

But when I am all alone,
When I push myself into a small Corner,
I feel someone beside me,
Perhaps her reassuring spirit.

I don't hear her voice,
I don't see her face,
I have no choice,
So instead I go back to the same place.

A place of complete silence,
Where I am all alone,
All on my own,
I go there only to feel her beside me
Again,
To know that she is there.

Perhaps I don't need to see her,
Or to hear her,
Perhaps it's just enough to know,
That she will always be there,
Right by my side.

~n.s

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A/n: This poem was dedicated to my grandmother. She passed away before I was born, and even though I've never seen her before, I know that she is always around, right by my side, to reassure me that it's all going to be alright.
Xoxo,
Nikita Scoble)