They come like thieves in the quiet of night,
Grief bombs exploding, trying to steal my light.
A scent, a song, a fleeting word,
And suddenly, memories are fiercely stirred.
Her laughter echoes, a bittersweet sound,
In the empty spaces where love is found.
I can almost see her face in the morning's glow,
Yet the ache reminds me she had to go.
The weight of loss, it crushes, it binds,
A heavy fog in the corners of my mind.
Yet amidst the rubble of what’s been torn,
Tiny sparks of hope are quietly reborn.
A bird takes flight, a flower blooms,
Life persists in the face of gloom.
I can almost hear her voice soft through the rustling leaves,
A gentle reminder that she's near and her soul’s at ease.
The bombs still fall, but now I see,
They clear the path for her love in me.
Through broken pieces, a strength unfolds,
Her legacy woven in the life I hold.
So, I gather the shards, rebuild with care,
Find her presence in the love and gratitude I share.
Grief may endure, but hope finds its place,
A bittersweet tune that time can't erase.
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