I listen to the chorus of a new day
As sun rises to greet the morn
But I, in memory's grip, am torn
For I cannot seem to grasp the joy.
A melancholy cloak is draped
Upon my dreams and shoulders,
Neither being the bolder
To toss away the building sorrow.
Why now? Have not enough years
Gone by, enough time passed?
Must I once again be cast
Into this bottomless abyss of loss?
I hear the voices of clearer thoughts, all
Whispering from the shadowed gloom
That I must look to the lily's bloomed
Within the memories left behind.
There will come a new day
And the gift of time's grace and joy.
I will shed the heaviness draped
And understand that sorrow
Is not measured by count of years
Nor the fathomless truth of loss.
It is not to be measured at all...
Lest it destroys all once left behind.
submitted into the Word Painting Challenge
By Myrna D.
© 2012 Myrna D.
(All rights reserved)