GRIEF Poem: A loss, my loss; a death, by Matthew Atkins

Grip remains, strong arm, taught.
Holding on to dreams, as the
Whisps of smoke seep from the
Cracked and creased fists.
If it was a mere moment I caught
And held onto as the other
Moments slipped away,
Like grasping at water and sand;
Then it was worth the
Very act of movement.
The softness of the silken
Lips that I once kissed.
They have taken me,
taken my life and
Made sense of the words
I used to hear. Words;
Brushing past me like the
Sound of breeze in the trees.
The softening sound of air.
I wish so much you could stay.
I wish it so much I pray
For the day when
We meet again.

Author: poetryfest

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