I Miss You

There is a nip in the cold air,

And the last rays of the setting sun remind me of you. 

I can't eat, can't drink, can't sleep, my mind goes numb,

And in the numbness, I remember you and sense you. 

I sense your presence. Even the biting air of the winter dusk,

Tastes cold and sharp and wild, and tastes like you,

And brings to mind many similar nights gone by, each marked clear and crisp, 

Fresh and fragrant, with the memories created by me and you. 

The sky is a beautiful colour, a colour that will come tomorrow and yet never be repeated, 

And that colour, glorious and fleeting, mesmerizing, is the colour of you. 

The moon with her sweet shine, glowing softly through my window,

The dawn gently breaking out on her wings of gold,

The yellow grass peeking out through the crystal snow

And the leaves of the trees standing firm against the cold,

All these come together, and surround me, and hug me, and kiss me,

And I close my eyes, and I am warm, and once again, I am with you. 

I remember you. 

(dedicated to GR)

Experience

You cross over the pedestrian bridge, hoping to catch the train before it leaves. You're two floors above the ground, and taking stairs would be faster. You need to get to the train, and to the last compartment if possible, because it would be closest to the staircase at your destination. You stumble down the stairs as fast as you can, walking as fast as possible, so that you can continue to breathe normally. Just as you exit the stairwell, you hear the crackling of the overhead power lines, heralding the arrival of a train, onto the station. 

You look up, and there it is, hurtling close, across the tracks that you must cross to get to the train you need to take. Without a second thought, you begin to run, as fast as you can, across the tracks, right before the train comes in, across to the last compartment of the train. A risky thing to do, crossing tracks right in front of a train.

But it's needed. Because the moment the incoming train comes to a halt, your train will leave, forcing you to wait fifteen minutes in the chilly night air for the next one. You know this, without consciously realizing it, without reading it somewhere, without being told by someone who's familiar with riding the railway system. You know this. 

That's experience.