The morning was so gray, weighty—
the clouds kept a promise to pin me.
My spirit unleavened,
hearing the cry of my sister asking
why?
Your yellow dress didn't wake us.
I was certain
the clouds would never lift
nor the gray,
wrapping me in muted wool,
my grief cocoon
where everything inside changed.
The weather followed—
winter came before
spring bloom
without the gentle fall.
Suddenly
you were pictures
on my bedroom wall,
framed—
I couldn't feel or touch,
only hear
the songs you loved
I played alone.
Listening, listening
as the clouds lifted
and you brought the sun
to my curtain.
About the Creator
Pixel Floyd
I write poetry. Inspired by the undefined spaces where words take their chances.
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Comments (1)
As always, emotionally moving and beautifully wrought.