Delicately, gentle thee walked,
Little sounds echoed through the corridor,
Those sounds remain no longer more.
Far away is thy soul locked.
Once a gentle brush against,
But, now, the veil has thee fenced.
A light amongst the darkened sky,
Left without a proper goodbye.
The corridors will remain dark and dreary,
Thoughts of thee will always leave me teary.
The shadows forever will outline the state of gloom;
The gloom conjured up by thee within a tomb.
Forever in my mind thee will resign,
Forever will thee in the night sky shine.
(A/N: This was written about my childhood dog who passed away recently.)
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Shiver
Poetryꜱʜɪᴠ·ᴇʀ /ˈꜱʜɪᴠƏʀ/ ᴠᴇʀʙ (ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴏʀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ) ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟᴀʙʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ. -- Short stories and poetry that heavily revolve around grief, death, and mental illness.
