Bright is the morning
As dusty snow swallows the peaks
The wind itself is bitter cold
And I am alone
Dark is the room
Where leaves blow in
And cobwebs hold up the walls
Empty but for me
Steam rises slowly
And the tea leaves dance
Carefree like we once were
Before that day
Rain fell hard
On that field of stone
My heart bitter and empty
When you left
Since you died
Each day past
Is harder than the last
Without you
Image by Efes Kitap from Pixabay
Jon Gray Lang.com 