The wind walks slow through fields of grey,
where laughter once chose light to stay.
Now silence speaks in hollow tones,
and dreams lie buried under stones.

The clock forgets the joy it kept,
while shadows guard the tears we wept.
A name once sung now fades to mist
---
a life once touched,a hand once kissed.

What cruelty time, to steal so much--
a voice,a smile,a warming touch.
Yet in the ache,a truth we find:
love lingers still,though left behind.

So mourn we must,but not alone,
for grief,though sharp,is deeply known.
And in the pain,a sacred art--
the broken echo of the heart