The leaves tumble down,
Another season passing, but where are you now?
Your laughter once echoed in these walls,
Now it’s just silence that answers the calls.
Your favorite things—long gone, misplaced,
Like shadows of a life we can no longer trace.
The grief is here, sharp and true,
Yet somehow, you’re slipping away too.
Time moves forward, relentless, unkind,
As I search for pieces of you left behind.
The world keeps turning, leaves keep falling,
And I’m left with this ache, your absence haunting.
How does one disappear while grief stays?
I’m caught in the quiet, lost in the haze.
Categories: death, family, identity, mental health, Poetry, Psychology, society, The Seasons
psychologistmimi 
The Way my Wife’s Brother
Described it After their
Mother Passed
Away A Mailbox
With Empty Mailboxes
Inside Continuing With No End
On the Other
Hand When my
Mother Passed
Away i’d Be Born
To Her
A Thousand
Times Again to Live For Real
In Other Words the Opportunity to
even
Love
at
all
With SMiLes…
Gift With No Measure…
Dear Miriam
It’s Truly Impossible to Fully
Understand Someone Else’s Grief…
And
Or Love…
The Way my Wife
Described it She
Never Felt Loved
By Her Mother At All…
True i Felt Her Mailboxes
That
Never
Ended
Or Began too…
It Was Hard to escape…
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Empty mailboxes within mailboxes… i get it. Thanks for sharing
LikeLiked by 1 person
Remember
gone,
forever
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