There’s a certain pang occurs,

not readily defined.

Creeps up on a soul

like an afternoon rain,

cloudy and hazed,

sheets of love remain.

It takes time to process

a loss,

a harbinger of going forward

remains still in the mind

weeks upon months upon

that year we subside

and allow our lives

to channel a new horizon.

On saying goodbye

so much left to

say, again,

anothr way.