Consecutive

I call out to her in the mist,
crying as she walks away,
like my calls were unheard,
like I am some stranger.
back then when I was called
i would turn around, contented
for she needed a shoulder,
at times a friend,
at times like a fatherly figure
now the winds have changed,
blown away my feeble world,
burnt to ground all I had
but I still turn around
I hear her, as echoes of my past,
for she is in every breath,
in every moment, 
in every instance I occur in.
to see her, to hear her,
to make her feel alright,
I wish to exist, to love,
to just ache, but to love again.