She stood looking at the open landscape,

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.

He marvelled at its stillness,

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,

and she stared right back at him,

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.


3 responses to “Sombre

  1. PJ summed it up so well, very beautiful but heartbreaking. I can identify very closely with what you wrote, having lost my husband too young to evil cancer, my Dad and others. It’s a loss that is overwhelming, my faith is very strong or I would never have made it. Good writing Sherline!

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