On Our Way

here, on our way

to nowhere in particular

we speak of what could be,

of heads pressed close

in laughter and breath

prayers laid bare

and the pause of space

between us as we reach

for one another

missing, fingers laced

we let the air bear

the full of unspoken words

weight of yearn

leak into seats behind

the driver’s chair

there are no middle

in front seats of cars

anymore

you hold the wheel

direct our hearts

manage the

blanks between us

we are old now,

missing is a part of life

like missing middle front seats

or six-year-old grins punctuated

with space where teeth

once stood, we have

missing things too

that may, or may not,

return

© Valerie Bridgeman

February 25, 2013

(The poem that was embedded in “I Have Come to Love You” and “I Have Come to Love You II”)