The Embrace of Grief
This bitter earth cradles the light,
Fracturing dawn into splinters of quiet despair,
Horizon variations paint shadows in the journal of the blue notebook,
Etching sorrow into pages worn thin by murmuring.
In the conservatory’s embrace, where old songs remain.
Among the willows, a glum melody floats,
Carried by the afternoon breeze, it whispers of loss,
Cataloguing moments as they slip through fingers like sand.
Grief wears a cloak woven from the threads of unspoken dreams,
Its texture is heavy, with the weight of murmur goodbyes.
The setting sun sorrow in colours of purple and gold,
It’s a funeral fuel for the day that’s been laid to rest.
Tears, those silent witnesses of the soul’s storm,
Sketch tearful abstracts on cheeks that have known joy.
They speak in the language of heartbeats missed,
Of love gentle beneath a blanket of stars now dimmed.
This bitter earth, oh, how it spins and spins,
Yet in its turning, holds us close through the dance of days.
So we stand on the edge of the grass, gazing into the emptiness.
Of memories and moments that, like daylight, fade.
Into the embrace of night’s cold, yet tender, grasp.
