The Longest Wait

June 30, 2026

The silence settles far too deep,
while strangers guard your fragile sleep.
Bright halls echo, cold and white,
stealing you from day and night.

The numbness sparked a trail of fear,
and now I wish that I were near.
While doctors search for what is true,
my every thought still circles you.

I miss your voice, your sweetest grin,
the quiet peace you’ve always been.
The hours stretch, the minutes crawl;
your absence lingers through them all.

If worry could be held instead,
I’d bear its weight, not yours, ahead.
If hope were stitched with careful thread,
I’d wrap it softly ’round your bed.

I pray each test brings clearer skies,
and answers gentle, calm, and wise.
That every heartbeat, strong and true,
keeps writing brighter days for you.

Until you’re back where you belong,
I’ll hold on until you are strong.
With every breath, my heart will say,
“I’m here with you, though far away.”

And when this chapter fades at last,
its fear becoming only past,
I’ll treasure more than words can show
the simple gift of knowing so.

That even walls of steel and stone,
could never make you stand alone.
For distance yields, but cannot steal
the quiet love that waits so still.

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