Full moon, soft breeze
Owls calling softly in the woods below:
It’s spring.
But no more springs for you.
Tears flow, heart breaks
For all the might have beens
That never will.

A month has passed
And time moves on
But my heart can’t.

An empty place
A soft depression
Reminders that
You are gone.

I know that life will come around
Laughter will return
And tears grow softer

But your place will forever be
Unfilled.