Morning Grief

"Imagine a lovely garden, tea for two, and this story . . . " Morning has never been the same like before Like those days, when he was still mine we both glad to embrace the new morning come. To sense the air, The light touch of the morning breeze, for us to hold tightly in one’s arms. All has vanished along with the clouds creep across the sky. Perhaps, I just smiled at the green leaves and flowers. And the butterflies then, sent my kisses at the heaven’s gate. Morning would be a new day of full of hope, just like as of letting him go to let him fly away to my heart. And let the memories’ dance under the morning sun. Though I can’t pretend these tears. To hold them to flow steadily, still my heart cries a river of tears. Each day of my life was being hard for me. Knowing that he will never be coming back to me. I still believe on dreams of having him around, To go on each day to live again. I could still recall the days. When he was fighting for life, his brown dull eyes that smile behind his pain. Like a sturdy tree that shed his leaves, to grow them back in spring, to welcome life. I could still hear his soft voice that cries inside my solitude, he says goodbye, But the words can’t get in the way. So I held his hands for one last time. To kiss him goodbye, and it’s tearing me apart. It’s another day of my sadness, a morning grief of my heart. Cheryl Aldea I fancy another sad poem Contest Sponsored by Constance La France – A rambling Poet. August 17, 2011