LOST RAYS

She was eight, and I was twelve, We met on the thirteenth, where the sun did dwell. Cute and funny, she sat by my side, In the study hall, where we’d often hide. Starting with a kick, then pulling hair, Yet my cycle seat was always there. Hiding behind my shadow’s grace, Shielded from the wind’s harsh embrace. Holding my finger to light her way, Guiding her through the dark of the day. But then our paths began to stray, Though love remained, it couldn’t stay. She chose the longest journey to roam, And I was left here, lost and alone. Still, the beauty of memories makes me smile, As I remember those moments, though they’re gone awhile. For she was the little one who called me her guide.