He came, and he left

I met a pilot, or so I thought, A man with wings, but time he fought. He’s busy skies and silent nights, Replies like dawn, then out of sight. I wonder why the pattern stays, Is it routine or hidden ways? No time for me, or just for now? I ask myself, but don’t know how. His words are calm, his tone is deep, Yet silence falls, and makes me weep. Three days of talk, then quiet air, Did I get close? Or was it rare? I crave a man with steeze and grace, Not just a uniform, but face. Yet, I know, what’s meant will be, If not, then Allah sets me free. So here I stand, waiting still, Hoping time will heal or fill. If he returns, I’ll keep my guard, But if not, I’ll move on hard. For I am worth the love I seek, No broken dreams, no moments weak. A pilot or no, my heart will fly— One day, someone will hear my sky.