Number Four

My seat on the plane was number four,

A message I’ve been longing for.

Arrived at my hotel only to find

That, they too had you in mind.

My room was located on level four

The number 400 was on the door.

I heard your footsteps on the floor

Wishful thinking! My tears started to pour.

You choose my travels to make me aware

With signs to reassure me that you’re there.

Dearest loving daughter, who I adore

This trip is dedicated for you, 404.

Randah R. Hamadeh, Copyright © 2013
Author, Summer Rays: Solace for Bereaved Parents
Written in loving memory of my daughter,
Samar Ahmed Al Ansari (4/4/1988-4/9/2006)
(www.samaralansari.com)