Phone, Where art Thou

You are heartless and cruel, elusive fey,
Slipping from fingers like the grains of sand.
Diligent in my search from night to day,
Without you in my hand life is so bland.

It is your siren's voice that beckons me,
Again I call for your sweet, dulcet tones.
Still with nary a sound, I wait and see,
If you will appear to silence my moans.

But no sight of you comes to lift my gloom,
With heart heavy and dead I lie in bed.
Once again you call and hope starts to bloom,
I search and wipe away the tears I shed.

At last, under the bed tiny and small,
My phone with more than a dozen missed calls.