Present But Absent

In the quiet of the night, 

My Father's absence fills the room,

A void that lingers,  like shadows in the gloom.

His laughter echoes in memories untold,

But my father's presence, like vapor, escapes my hold.

My father, present yet absent, a paradox to bear,

My Father's love was a distant whisper, his warmth but a glare.

In the silence of my heart, his absence screams loud,

Aching for the embrace of a love once proud.

My Father missed the milestones, the triumphs, and tears,

A spectator from afar, as time disappears.

The ache of longing, a constant, heavy weight,

For my father's love, forever lost to fate.

Yet still, I hold onto fragments of his being,

In whispered tales and echoes, ever freeing.

Though present in absence, my father's love remains,

In the fragments of memories, where solace reigns.

So here I stand, a heart still yearning,

For my father's love, endlessly burning.

In the quiet of the night, I'll hold him dear,

A present but absent father, forever near.