In the wee, small hours of morning,
your concern makes my nerves fray.
Distance creates questions,
that hang in the air unanswered
facial expressions unable to be read,
worry unable to be alleviated.
If I could reach out,
touch your arm for the briefest second,
perhaps that contact would help.
It may ease my worry,
and just maybe it would let you know,
that you never have to face your fear alone.
There is an army behind you,
charging into battle with you,
always there, ready to fight.