As tragic as loneliness can be,
I return to bygone times to see,
To the tiny image that put me at ease and relive the days of peace,
Where I imprison myself to describe when she is awake.
When winter comes, her cheeks are like blossoms on a day of spring.
That beautifies her face as a feeling of the summer’s embrace,
And when the leaves fall, then autumn will not be to blame.
If my world breaks in half, all it would mend is to see her last smile.
Forever, I will be.
Cursed to open my eyes once more,
Though I am fine where you are,
On earth, it begins, and in heaven, it ends.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 5:01 PM UTC
As tragic as loneliness can be,
I return to bygone times to see,
To the tiny image that put me at ease and relive the days of peace,
Where I imprison myself to describe when she is awake.
When winter comes, her cheeks are like blossoms on a day of spring.
That beautifies her face as a feeling of the summer’s embrace,
And when the leaves fall, then autumn will not be to blame.
If my world breaks in half, all it would mend is to see her last smile.
Forever, I will be.
Cursed to open my eyes once more,
Though I am fine where you are,
On earth, it begins, and in heaven, it ends.
I wrote this poem, because I have been helping an old man recently who has altzheimer in my neighbourhood. When you look at him, he looks like he's "confused", but when he starts to talk about his deceased wife, you know, as if he returns being himself and he litherally remembers everything; the street where they met, their childhood, the first kiss, their marriage
like.. this guy loved his wife so much even after death
I got a little bit inspired by his unbreakable devotion.
