Her Home stands, proud but bereft.
There are no lights,
No voices that sound
And no close embraces.
No more.
Wild Ivy runs rampant now
Where she sang songs
And spoke of joyous yesterdays
And deeds of valour. But…
No more.
Swift cold winds rush, and stop
Then flow again, gentle, searching
For her, a questing soul who knew thirst,
Was cause & quench to he who belonged.
No more.
So today I shall bow again and sing
Silent songs, letting voice rise in cadence
With memories and questing, still winds
And resilient honour and courage.
For Evermore.
Swapan Dholakia is a Communications veteran, a seeker who gets his highs through expression and exploring.
Featured image: Damini Rathore / Unsplash