Thanksgiving coming on, family here, then clearly gone,
Back to lives filled with work, filled with hope,
Filled with days, some like ours, some like theirs.
Destiny, fulfilled, with private fancies, secret dreams.
We remain connected, tied by the, invisible cord.
Connected in ways never imagined by some, imagined by others.
Our true lives known by us, secrets keeping our relationships silent,
Our connection only known by us, only guessed at by others.
Only visible by the way we respectfully treat each other in public.
We float and live until we are brought together again.
Yo-yo-ing back and forth for the rest of our lives.
Parenting, the best of times, parenting, the hardest at times.
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