It changes shape; it changes colour; grief my friend; it changes you
The clock will tick, but time won't heal
Those words they say, aren't always real
The healing, though, is in the feel
The feel of tears, the feel of someone's
comforting embrace
The softest word with gentle grace
The lightest touch
Sun on your face
Your mother's smile in someone's face
Her words that echo on your path
Lighting your way
Out of the dark
As years tick on, and comfort comes
You'll see her face right through the fog
And comfort comes right through the dark
As beauty beckons her to your heart.
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC
It changes shape; it changes colour; grief my friend; it changes you
The clock will tick, but time won't heal
Those words they say, aren't always real
The healing, though, is in the feel
The feel of tears, the feel of someone's
comforting embrace
The softest word with gentle grace
The lightest touch
Sun on your face
Your mother's smile in someone's face
Her words that echo on your path
Lighting your way
Out of the dark
As years tick on, and comfort comes
You'll see her face right through the fog
And comfort comes right through the dark
As beauty beckons her to your heart.
Written for my friend after her mother passed suddenly