Beneath the pines, in pouring rain,
You stood there—drenched, yet calm in pain.
The burden bent your weary frame,
But still you smiled and spoke my name.
“Go on,” you said, “the path is steep,
I’ll come along when clouds fall asleep.”
You laughed about the beasts at night—
Yet your eyes held more fear than light.
And I, no braver, yet just as torn,
Would face the dark where wild things mourn,
If only fate had drawn us near
In a life bound by loss and fear.
This longing, stitched in flesh and bone,
Will bloom in silence, lived alone.
You turned, and with a nod, you climbed—
While I stayed back, lost in time.
A cigarette, my only friend,
I watched it burn, end after end.
And with each breath, I let you go,
Like fog dissolving into snow.
