Whomever you are,
wherever I might have lost you along the way,
Whether you know this or not, whether I’m lost
To your thoughts, or you think of me often
Or now and again,
Whatever we had in laughter, in bittersweet or hoped for dreams,
Our present lives written as they are because of that—
We are pages scribed in a book
Because I loved you or you loved me.
We are not lost because of our loss—and though
we may never speak—or maybe we do,
In my heart where love is found,
I will always love you.
You are a part of the larger story of who I am,
And I will always be grateful to you.
One day in the greater light, when the book is closed,
I know we will meet again,