Walking through the shivering snow, they stop
in their tracks, turn back, at the sound of silent streams
down snow-dew cheeks.
When family gathered, regardless of strife,
to gather the white blanket of quiet, wide-eyed wonder that was you.
a part of us; you suddenly
cried with an open mouth and silence loud enough for all who knew.
When on savoured sixteenth, that youthful crush thought they could
match that rebellious glow in your eyes, your wild lopsided energy, your tumultuous laughter that
rumbled through your statement fashion, with bold words of theirs to take your hand
that day; but met were they with your angry misunderstood tears
that you shed somewhere beyond their sight
When on that buzzing meadow, she looked at you
hands clasped tight with your growing juvenile love,
eyes tight with unshed brimming;
is it of joy, of missing her, of growing up, of starting something new?
you fill before you’ve even said your vows.
They always said you were a future child.
When between those tired layers of white-
washed plates of neglected food, he looked at you from the corner
of his eye, and noticed you let a stray salty drop dribble
down the side of your eyes to the pillows of the hospital home,
that you thought that nobody could see, behind
your weak smile and now tender limbs
which said the words you could no longer say.
When on that morn, and the snow drifted hard,
stilled all those who gathered to lament,
stilled their silent tears for all those that you never yet got to shed.
Oh! Do they turn back to bittersweet sounds of nostalgia.