Grief

In the hush of dawn, a quiet ache
settles like mist upon the pane,
where laughter once rang bright and clear,
now echoes fade to soft refrain.

Grief wears a coat of sober grey,
its threads woven through every breath,
a steady pulse beneath the skin,
reminding us of life and death.

We walk the streets with downcast eyes,
the world awash in muted hue,
yet somewhere deep a tender glow
persists, a ember breaking through.

Memories rise like autumn leaves,
each one a colour, crisp and stark,
they swirl in quiet reverie,
lighting the shadow’s fading dark.

So let the tears fall, let them cleanse,
for sorrow waters the soul’s own ground,
and from the damp, resilient roots
new hope may slowly, gently, be found.