Not such a heavy weight,
More a soft tugging,
Within the cavity of your chest.
A feeling of concern,
And hope too,
That things are going well.
When your mind drifts to their image.
And you can sense them.
But you cannot see them face to face,
To be reassured.
It is whispered,
Not all encompassing.
Life's responsibilities drown it out.
But it still comes,
In the quiet moments,
The anxiety,
For those you care for,
Who are absent.
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