Missing You

I miss talking with you,
yes, you, the one with the
soft brown hair, five pairs
of reading glasses, you who
sits on a chair with shorter legs
so your feet touch the ground;
you can kind of look like
a grown up, with your stiletto
heels that really don’t fit
who you are at all.
I miss making fun of you,
our laughter drifting out
into the hallway; I like that
you laugh at yourself.
Just look at the wall in
your office to know how I
feel about you.