The Unanswered Call
The silence stretches, wide and deep, a space
Where my small 'hello' falls without a trace.
I check my phone, a habit worn and true,
A faint, false hope that maybe it's from you.
The thread of connection, I'm the one who weaves,
The constant opener, the one who believes
That if I pause, if I just let it be,
The silence would grow to infinity.
I map the distance, gauge the growing gap,
And I'm the one who always has to tap
Upon the glass, the careful, gentle nudge,
To prove our bond isn't built on a grudge.
I know your news, the triumphs and the strife,
Because I ask about your life.
I hold the mirror, catching all the light,
And listen late into the lonely night.
But oh, dear friend, a quiet, simple plea:
Sometimes I wonder, do you think of me?
When the dark shadows start to close me in,
And my own battle is where I begin..
I wish just once, without a prompting word,
The unexpected check-in would be heard.
To see a message, a small, unsolicited sign,
"Are you okay? How are things on your line?"
To feel the warmth of being sought and seen,
And know I'm valued, not just a machine
For comfort given, always on the call.
I long to know I matter after all.
More Works by Nancy Ann Creed
No comments:
Post a Comment