Is it silly,  
To ache for fleeting things?  
To feel the end when the laughter rings,  
To sit in silence, heavy and still,  
The emptiness creeping against my will?  

To feel sad when people go,  
To wish they'd stay, though I know  
They have their right to leave behind  
This fragile tether in my mind.  

To fear the night, the sleep ahead,  
The quiet thoughts that fill with dread,  
Tipsy, but not drunk enough to erase,  
The stories my mind is bound to chase.  

To hate the morning's steady glow,  
The end of dark, the start of woe,  
To sit alone when joy has gone,  
With echoes left to linger on.  

Is it silly to feel so deep,  
To ache for moments I cannot keep?  
Or is it just a fragile plea,  
To hold what's fleeting close to me?