My days tend to age differently now

As do I- all the sunrises and sunsets

Morning and moonlights are duller

They’re imbibed by darker shades now

My breaths feel labored and shallow

But some blame my wild imagination

Claiming I feel things that aren’t here  

Others tout my lack of full capitulation

My inability to let my grief and you go

Since when does real love stop- loving?

I’d posit that my grief is more indicative

That my love for you remains ever radiant

You’re just not here to accept it in person

But I’m sure you know that… in heaven


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by EYu00dcP BELEN on Pexels.com


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