just a lonely moment ago.
One weary trudge, the path dark,
unclear, tangled and overgrown.
A plethora of memories,
for uneasy company,
Two wells of grief,
it's bitter sting burning the cheeks.
Zero, solace coerced
voids where once there were none.
Uncounted, the moments that pass,
the moments to get through.
84 stark reminders,
the familiar morning jolt.
Two thousand hours,
one hundred thousand minutes,
The passage of each,
carved in the sands of loss.
