It is the hollow
of your shoulder blade
where I rest my head

safe
against your soft skin

curved
along the strength
of your backbone
that

I

m i s s

when you are

g o n e

my place of safety

my harbour
against
the storm of
the world

but
you are

g o n e

and I must
wait
for your
safe return.

Diana Rosser

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gone-461/