VHF Ghost

[Verse 1]
The phone's a warm stone in my palm, one seventeen A.M.
My father's drafting lamp still maps the dust on his regimen.
Then your name flickers up inside this tiny glass rectangle,
A signal from a different postal code, a different angle.

[Chorus]
Three dots of you, a little solar flare
A VHF ghost on the humid air
Then just the empty blue, and static everywhere.

[Verse 2]
Remember that June you swore you saw the green flash off the coast?
"Patience," you texted, "is a science, not a boast."
Now the screen goes cold against my thumb, a brand new kind of quiet,
Like a wavelength bending 'round a world I can't find on the pilot.

[Chorus]
Three dots of you, a little solar flare
A VHF ghost on the humid air
Then just the empty blue, and static everywhere.

[Bridge]
A signal pulse
A system check
Before the disconnect

[Outro]
Just the hum from the bonsai pot's little plastic sun.