The stuff of cemeteries
When life becomes a thing of cold hard marble.
When your touch feels the chill
of placing your hand on a tomb.
Searching for warmth and another's touch
when nothing is left but the emptiness of absence.
That is when grief is in your heart.
The chill remains with you every day
I was lucky to have you,
hold you.
Be in your company because this moment is
ever so brief and precious.
You can never hold onto anything
just the love in our hearts
which echoes and reverberates through
bereaved souls.
When things become the stuff of cemeteries and funerals
when the touch of cold marble tombstones
are little consolation against the heat of fresh grief.
When death falls all around you
then that is the time to stop and breathe
hold onto the ones you love
it is impossible to say goodbye
so make memories
search out happiness and
follow what gives you the spark
which is life itself.
