Peter Gates

Are You Missing Me

I miss you every day your work

Takes you away from me.

I feel as though a derelict

Upon a storm-tossed sea.

Though gone I feel your presence,

Though present you can’t be,

For duty to your calling

Has taken you from me.

I try but there’s naught that I can do

To call you home to me.

Why must I be that cursed ship

Tossed about on a windswept sea?

I need your arms about me,

Your sweet lips kissing me.

As you go about your day,

Are you missing me?