Time is a healer or so they say
the seconds, the minutes, the hours
Days become weeks,
weeks become months. Yet the pain
The silence is deafening.
Expectations to still feel and sense a presence,
yet flowers decay dried and withered
by the elements.
The emptiness collects the tears and words
of the widow’s lament.
Nights of loneliness,
days of quiet.
Insomnia takes hold
regrets of what ifs,
conversations never had unable to forgive.
Yet the end creates a new start.
As a circle completes and the pain lessens
its hold on the heart.
So time is a healer or so they say.
the spirit kept alive in memories.
A vigil at your side kept once a year.
Laughter begins to fill the house as the
happy times resume,
and a new future of possibilities blooms.