I wrote this last night, and had forgotten about it until just a few minutes ago...

Sitting on the outside
always looking in
Peter Pan without the safety
of Neverland to fly back to.

Think back, concider
am I guilty of the self-same fault
my heart accuses another of?
Feeling forgotten
glanced at and passed over.
"What does not happen
is simply not meant to be."
Would that my lonesomeness
believed this simple reasoning
No this is no more true
than to say "What is, ought to be."
For this is not always so.

Waiting, watching
listening, longing
there is naught to be done
quiet acceptance is all that remains.