Days turn into months before you send a sign of life,
a living phantom is what you are, haunting me whenever you wish.
You wait for the emotions to calm and settle back in their cave
and back into the calm abyss from which they came, only to evoke them yet again.
They come out of their shelter, answering your call as they stir and mingle together.
Hope and faith are the last to come out and both are desperate,
they try to hold on to you, but you slip through their fingers.
Just as fast as you came, you disappear again.
For a fleeting moment all is still and they know what's happened.
One by one they reluctantly go back in the shadows, hope and faith are the last to go.
Time goes by... they stir... the living phantom has returned.
