In tender remembrance, whispered in soft tones,
“Not now, not yet,” my silent heart groans.
A snapshot faded on paper, fragile and slight,
Captures a smile, a spirit so bright.
Once in a realm where dreams freely roamed,
Vivid with colors in every moment combed.
Nights cradled in peace, in dreams’ gentle hold,
Where stars spun stories untold.
A time existed, death merely a distant muse,
Endless days under skies of infinite hues.
Now, life preserved in static frames and stories,
Amid my family’s cries, in their sorrows and worries.
“Who was I?”—a question floating in time’s vast sea,
Will their tears persist? How long will they be?
Rivers born of sorrow, from their eyes they gently fall,
Seeking comfort under the eagle’s protective thrall.
High, an eagle’s quiet flight against the sky,
Below, butterflies bask in the sunlight, flying high.
As dusk merges with the night’s quiet sigh,
Stars hint at souls in the gentle night’s embrace, saying goodbye.
In the night’s soft caress, a complex delight,
The tender parting, life’s final flight.