The pulsing crimson within my chest,
a fretful mind of deep regret.
The silent echo of pining sadness and sorrow,
and the ruby, red poppies bloom to mark
an eternal slumber.
A burning desire to turn back the clock,
and breath the unspoken words that
are hushed in the bleak, September silence.
The tears of autumn,
the fierce igniting of a piercing pain,
and the illumination of the kindling fire.
A montage of thoughts,
an intertwined thread,
the black and white memories frozen in time.
Ode to the muted silence,
a pause of reflection,
and a solemn truth.
The eulogic hymn
mourns the broken clasp of the severed chain
until the sweet fragrance of the first breath of spring.