You figure it out...

She waits

tick, tick, tick
the cursor beats
the rhythm of a
minute hand,
and she watches
hypnotic,
remininscent,
Mother.
praying for
a phone to ring,
or grandma,
longing for
a letter.

all this tech,
very little change
the silence
the longing,
the pulling
a ubiquitous orb
and the ache inside.
not a voice,
not a hand,
love could vanish
in seconds
at the touch of "delete"

things evolve,
the heart doesn't
like those before her
She still waits.