Loss
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing, the essence of life.
Seasons passed, weathering change with aloof,
Fleeting days happier spent with thy wife.
A tempest, descent, at thine last hour,
Hidden were the intentions, beneath calm.
Respect given, masked by faces dour,
Serenity and peace, sought after balm.
From hence your memory, death cannot take,
transcend mortality in my mind's eye.
Grief manifested in ways of my make,
Emotions restrained as I whisper bye.
And other strains of woe, which were my foe,
Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.
Stolen on his wing, the essence of life.
Seasons passed, weathering change with aloof,
Fleeting days happier spent with thy wife.
A tempest, descent, at thine last hour,
Hidden were the intentions, beneath calm.
Respect given, masked by faces dour,
Serenity and peace, sought after balm.
From hence your memory, death cannot take,
transcend mortality in my mind's eye.
Grief manifested in ways of my make,
Emotions restrained as I whisper bye.
And other strains of woe, which were my foe,
Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.