“Still Waiting”
By Anesto, Age 54
I’m still waiting at the door,
Where your footsteps used to touch the floor.
Even pain begins to fade…
But the love?
It always stays.
Still alone.
Still afraid.
My name is Anesto. I’m 54.
I used to work as a carpenter.
Life was hard — but I didn’t mind.
I had a wife… and a son.
And I lived for them.
They were my whole world.
I gave everything to my boy.
Skipped meals, worked overtime —
So he could finish college.
When he graduated, I cried.
I thought it was the start of our new life.
But things changed.
My wife grew distant.
My son got busy.
They stopped calling.
One day, they both left.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
I waited.
Days turned to months.
Months into years.
No one came back.
I lost the house.
I lost my purpose.
I slept on streets.
Forgotten.
People looked away,
But inside, I held on to one thing:
My voice.
And the hope that maybe, one day,
They’d hear it.
And now, I’m here.
On this stage.
Not to win.
Not for fame.
Just to sing one song.
One last song… for them.
Maybe they’ll hear me.
Maybe they’ll remember.
Because I never stopped loving them.
I built our home with bleeding hands,
Laid each brick with love and plans.
You were my light, my reason why,
Now I just talk to an empty sky.
I’m still waiting at the door,
Where your laughter lived before.
Every night I whisper low,
“Lord, bring them home. Don’t let me go.”
But silence is all I know.
You wore your cap. I fixed your tie.
Watched you chase your dreams and fly.
I gave you wings. I stayed behind.
But now you’re gone.
And so is time.
I’m still waiting at the door,
Where your footsteps touched the floor.
Even pain begins to fade…
But the love — it always stays.
Still alone.
Still afraid.
I don’t need much.
Just one more day.
To hear you call.
To hear you say…
“Dad, I remember who you are.”
But wishes don’t go that far.
So I sing here on this stage,
Old and tired, full of age.
Not for gold. Not for fame.
Just to call out your name.
Still waiting.
Still the same.
Still…
Here.