Where did you go when the room fell still,
Beyond the quiet window sill?
Why did the clock keep ticking on,
When all your light was suddenly gone?
Who will carry the stories now,
Or remember the laughter, and tell us how
To speak of youth in the past tense,
Or make this heavy silence make sense?
What do we do with the shared, sweet years,
The cousin’s bond now mapped in tears?
When will the weight of the morning break,
And leave us with less than a heart can ache?
We ask each question to empty air,
Seeking your ghost in an empty chair—
Learning how love, when forced to stay,
Turns into grief, but won’t walk away.
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