A Lamp Blown Out Too Early

My Heart Grew Older That Day

Death was a lamp quietly blown out at dawn,
Before I could finish showing you how to live.
You went like a bird vanishing into thick mist,
Still listening for my voice, still believing I would follow.

Grief is a house where one chair is forever empty,
And I cannot sit without feeling your eyes on me.
You called me brother, but leaned like a son,
Trusting my shadow to stand between you and the dark.

Your passing was a candle giving its last gold breath,
Light spilling out as if it refused to leave me.
They say you returned to the silence that taught you how to breathe,
But I am choking on the air you no longer take.

If love could call the departed soul back home,
You would already be here, holding me again.