He..

A short poem

There is a voice I want to hear
A stern yet gentle call to be near
There is a hand that I seek to hold
It is a callused yet warm touch I'm told

I search the horizons hoping to sight
At least a shadow before it's night
In vain I wait, dejected I return
Knowing later this pain will burn

It is faint but I know what I hear
He waits there though I still fear
He is not real, He might disappear,
But he's still there, everything I hold dear.