Why do you sit and miss people
You reject, abandon and humiliate them
Then you miss how they look, sound, laugh, smile and smell
However during that time they were nothing, but a scattered leaf to you
Nothing special and dead to you laid up on the floor
You left them there all winter, frozen in ice, drowning in rain and strong floods
You let the winds blow hard unto them
Until the heatwaves crumbled them and they're nowhere to be found
They're dust, compost or a work of art hanging in resin
Why do you care if you let them go?