A young child speaks directly to a father who has died, asking him to hold on and not let go. The child doesn't fully understand what has happened. Words like "dead" are puzzling, and the child can only say that the father went away and seems to have broken a promise to always be there. The question "How come you lied?" is painful because it's so innocent: it's grief without blame, just confusion.
The speaker feels longing, loneliness and hurt. Small details make the sadness real: the mother crying late at night and asking for him, and the child lying in the father's bed to feel close to him. Nobody has explained things clearly, so the child is left alone with big questions.
The ending is the gentlest part. Looking out the window at "your house near the moon," the child finds a hopeful picture of where the father might be. The mood is tender and heartbreaking, and the short, broken lines sound like a child speaking through tears.