The first time I saw,
There was the void she’d left;
That dark cloud of grief,
Told me your Sun,
Would ne’er rise at dawn.
Like a dead moon
Gives no light.
This is dedicated to a dear friend, who lost his wife some months ago and has since slowly gone down-hill in his grief, from one of the happiest men I’d ever met, he has withered to the shadow of who he was.
Written for Trifecta: Trifextra100 Challenge:
“This week’s Trifextra challenge. This week we are asking you to count syllables. And words. It’s a lot of math for those of us who might be more accustomed to dealing with words, but we’re confident you can pull it off.
We are asking for a 33-word response to the following snippet:
The first time I saw. . .
Here’s the catch: all of your 33 words must be one syllable each. We’re going low-brow on your this week. Or not. Can you class it up under these restrictions? Give us your best.