MND

In the dead of night

when you were sleeping

I would often cry

about what I was missing.

I looked everywhere, 

under beds and behind picture frames,

and I know you don't care,

but without it, I won't be the same.

Under the bed was dust and toys,

and behind the frames was distant noise.

After all this searching I think I have found

what seems to be a lonely sound,

I turn toward you with great haste

becuase I knew that what I was missing was your embrace.