I wait for a reply knowing it’ll not be

Wondering why he never thinks of me

With mere feelings that are more for a child

Which is sometimes strong and not so mild.

Long awaited for a mere word

But never an utter or even heard

From his voice not even a squeak

Nor is there the touch of his cheek.

No letters no sound and out of view

He no longer is the person I knew

That once shared the closeness of friends

Has now long died and near the end

And through all this I am still there

Hoping with regret and of care

That in his eyes he will see

That soon someday I will not be.