a desert of broken dreams,
her hand quivering at the darkness,
of lifeless willow reeds.
He stepped into the mire of clay,
lifting dirt from the ground,
a single thorn of hoplessness,
a wilted rose was found.
She grabbed the frail wild flower,
that had been crushed so mercilessly,
a dribble of souless anguish,
was what drained its glow of its power.
a quiet and saddened tale,
she clasped the flower so tightly,
He watched her face turn pale,
A glass of wine, a bottle of tears,
a bouquet of loss was here,
an empty shell, a lonely thought,
a lover passed on, he feared.
He took her shaking hand in his,
her face mistified by grieve so sick,
his embrace was what came quick,
To bury her broken-hearted mind,
He whispered in her ear,
“I will always be there waiting for you,
no matter how long it takes;
to recover your mind, your spirit, your soul,
I will always be yours”.
(c) 2012 Sherline N.T.
A contemplation about experiencing the death of a loved one and feeling like that part of you has died along with that person. An anguish so real and unspoken but really ever so real.