When you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf
Nor singing sea at night, nor silver birds
And I can only stare, and shape my grief
In little words

I cannot conjure loveliness, to drown
The bitter woe that racks my cords apart
The weary pen that sets my sorrow down
Feeds at my heart

There is no mercy in the shifting year
No beauty wraps me tenderly about
I turn to little words- so you, my dear
Can spell them out