And with each dying breath
That settles on the breeze,
To dip its head beneath
The horizon that we see,
Our lives become a little fainter
A little thinner to the eye,
And all the things that meant so much
Fall to the ground
Like Autumn’s sigh,
To be replaced by a growth
Whose colours seem,
To weary eyes,
A little paler in their hue
A little less impactful,
And as we mourn
The loss of souls
Whose touch we feel as if it were our own,
We step ourselves,
A little closer,
To the hole they left
Behind.
chrisnelson61 