Coming Back

Our lives march on, at rapid paces. I glimpse you as you run past my window, running off somewhere. I'm surrounded by books and papers and all I would really like is for you to come by and talk to me and take my mind off everything else. But you're running off. Running away.
I sit back and slowly lean back in my chair. I know you miss me, it's all in the way you look at me as you pass me by. We don't talk much anymore. Too much to do, other people to see. I really do think though that you still want to see me. You wish life wasn't so busy so you could take the time to talk. Shaking myself, I press on with my life. Wishing and waiting for you to stop by. Even though I seem consumed with my duties, I'm silently crying out to you to say come see me. Then one day, a little while later, my doorbell rings and I answer the door and there you are standing on my dootstep, your eyes plead with me to let you in, or should I say let you back in to my life and my home. Your applogize and we stand there, for one awkward moment and then you're hugging me and whirling me around and then we sit down and begin to catch up with each other. And you sitting there is all that I need to tell me that I wasn't so wrong. You really did miss me, and you really do love me. It's just that it's hard for you to find the exact words to tell me it's true.