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Death Comes Calling
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Lost Love A gentle rush of tranquil calling,
The subtle bloom of darkness falling.
The pale moon rises in the night,
The faint caress of fading light.
The stars, they twinkle 'til the morn',
The winter's night that calls forelorn.
Thoughts and visions left unbroken,
But the silent prayer thus spoken.
A cry to those who chose to fly,
Who spread their wings and touched the sky.
The memory weeps out the bleeding heart,
While the mind accepts the tattered art.
And winds will carry words unspoken,
Carry to the heaven's the mind's one token,
A wish to say goodbye to all,
Whose love was felt before the fall.
And nightmares ring of who and where after,
Did the love truly fly beyond the rafter?
Or did decention fall upon,
The lover now buried, dead and gone.
A nightmare thus, a trick of mind,
Cursed to those who are left behind.
Grief and melancholy strike,
To those alone, all minds alike.
Watch the moon in a gentle pass,
Chase the nightmares out at last.
The grave or urn, the resting place,
Of a once beloved peaceful face.
The voice, a memory soon forgotten,
The grief, a numbness soon begotten.
As days pass into months, then years,
A pattern once broken, returns to peers.
The night, she calls another in sleep,
Another memory thrown to the forgotten keep,
Another spirited lad or lass,
For we all must go as time shall pass.
