She's the daughter who is easy to forget,
The face he just can't seem to remember,
She is the girl that he just can't make enough time for,
And the calls he just so happens to miss.
She is the box marked important but left in the attic,
The piece of toast left uneaten because it was burnt,
She is that thing that he lost, but forgets to look for,
And the penny just not worth keeping.
She's the ice cream he wants, but is too fat to eat,
The yearbook of happiness that he lost under dust,
She is the verse of his favorite song, that he has to hum along to,
Because the lyrics, they just won't stick.
She is the camera of pictures that were never developed,
The clothes that he bought but never wears,
She is the dream he once had, but let go of with time,
And the book that was just not worth finishing.
She's the rain he runs quickly inside from,
The annoying wind when lighting a smoke,
She is the marker that runs out just one word too soon,
And that girl, from that thing, that one time.
She is the phone conversation that was meant to be made,
The letters that were just not worth writing,
She is the girl that he thought he would love,
And the daughter just not worth remembering...
*** this is one of the first non-rhyming poems i've wirtten so please let me know about the flow problems you come across... i'm sure there will be a couple..