All he could do, was, reach out.
But his arms could not bridge the gap to heaven so he built a monument. An accusing finger, pointing to god. Yearning for a reciprocating digit, but never finding such a thing. Sunrise made the feeling worse. Illuminating another day alone.
Waking hours, spent heavy. Minutes lumbered by, accompanied by desolate quiet. An invisible feeling, he often thought.
Sleep, a brief escape. But only for a few hours. Responsibilities reared and roared. He found few reasons to trudge on, except that, the fates might one day reply and return her to his arms.
Prompt courtesy of Sue Vincent‘s #writephoto challenge.