Standing in the shadows of swaying weeping willows.
Black garb sucking the warmth from my broken body.
I cannot face the grayed stone that marks your rest.
Or the groups of loved ones huddling together.
What do they know of love? Pure sweet love?
Instead I tremble with my face buried in fists.
Unwilling to show my weakness in times of trial.
Raising my face to the sky, leaving a burned image.
Of a shimmering pool of tears left in cupped hands.
This mass of silver is the lining in my cloud, truth.
Stumbling incoherently over to your stretch of turf.
Feeling your essence rising through the dirt to me.
I embrace you and let the glittering tears fall.
Watering the dirt where your still body lies.
So you can grow, grow to life and return to me.

Forever………

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