Too Little, Too Late

This is a poem about taking someone for granted. It's symbolic in all the things you don't really think about until they disappear.

Too Little, Too Late

You were like the air between my fingers,
         And the rays of sun upon my skin.
                  You were like the drops of rain on my hair,
                           And the soft grass beneath my feet.
                                    Now I live in a world without breath;
                              In a cold dark desert,
             Walking painfully on rocks.