An old man waters roses in the tender dawn light,
Finding a fragile solace in petals washed white.
He speaks to the stillness as if she can hear,
Letting her name rest on the hush of each year.
He warms up two cups while the kettle sighs low,
And watches the garden where soft memories grow.
Loneliness lingers yet gently he keeps
A small, aching solace in the silence he sleeps.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 5:05 AM UTC
An old man waters roses in the tender dawn light,
Finding a fragile solace in petals washed white.
He speaks to the stillness as if she can hear,
Letting her name rest on the hush of each year.
He warms up two cups while the kettle sighs low,
And watches the garden where soft memories grow.
Loneliness lingers yet gently he keeps
A small, aching solace in the silence he sleeps.
comfort found inside pain
