Years passed swiftly in silent amazement
Till you had to go.
Now the morning light is feeble.
Struggling to pierce the cold fog.
And the bare trees of winter
Drip rain
Like the grief I feel over your passing.
It’s asleep in my dreams
I find you
Preserved in the golden amber
That encases memories of us—
Your smile.
A touch.
The gentle words.
But I can no longer hold you in my arms.
And grief is love with no place to go.
But the sun also rises and sets
And hastens to the place where it rises.
And I’ve no place to go
No place to go.
-Stephen M.Crotts
(This poem was written watching a professor friend of mine grieve over his deceased wife.)
