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Swimming in grief
I swim in the weight of what once was,
where your laughter rippled like sunlight on waves.
Now the tide pulls heavy, a silent hush,
as grief drags deep into shadowed caves.
Your touch—once the shore I reached with ease—
is now a ghost in the ebb and flow.
The water whispers in mournful pleas,
carrying echoes, I dare not let go.
Each stroke I take is a fight with time,
against currents carved in sorrow’s tide.
Yet love still lingers, soft, sublime,
a beacon that will not subside.
Though lost in the depths of what we were,
I swim to keep your memory near.
Love does not drown—it shifts, it stirs,
a tide that speaks your name so clear.
Copyright ©
Jay Narain
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