A sky crumpled and silent

…and this cold rain.

God may take the sun away,

but the tree of grief still stands.

We rest under,

and pray for an imagined faith made perfect

in memory.

Leaves fall and draw me to a

faraway home.

To our shelter and past.

These albums, the pages of our stories, to

be held and noticed once more.

I read the lines you penned on its symmetry

now that you are no longer there.

Listening, and missing you,

I long to be a child again.