Jan 12, 2025
The rain falls soft, a mournful tune,
A quiet sob beneath the moon.
Each droplet weaves a thread of grey,
To veil the light, to hide the day.
The wind, it sighs, a hollow cry,
Through empty streets where shadows lie.
A ghost of laughter, faint, withdrawn,
Clings to the night, but soon is gone.
Beneath the weight of skies so drear,
The heart bends low, its edges seared.
Memories bloom like wilted flowers,
Their scent of loss marks passing hours.
Oh, sadness, gentle, cruel embrace,
You paint the world, erase its grace.
Yet in your arms, a truth resides:
We’re bound to feel, though joy subsides.
And so, I walk this rain-drenched way,
A fragile soul in shades of grey.
But even clouds, their tears unshed,
Will part for dawn, though skies seem dead.
~ magdalena