Rip © Poem by Roann Mendriq

The flowers droop their weary heads,
Their lilt has lost all meaning;
Wilting, wind-swept in their beds,
I hear their silent keening...

The stoic trees stand strangely still
Bent and burdened with dark care;
And then accepting heaven's will,
they bow gently as in prayer...

The birds have lost their joyful song,
Their sad bewildered silence screams;
And in the dawn seems to prolong,
the terror of night's anguished dreams.

Even the skies are misty eyed,
Because you've gone, you left...and died.

RIP my darling brother...