So many faces, etched with worry's lines, Hushed whispers hung heavy in the air. Suits, once crisp, now damp and clinging, defined A collective posture, burdened by despair.
We scanned their pallor, a sea of muted grey, Formal frowns etched deep beneath the brim. Everyone soaked, even drowning in dismay, Lost in a storm where solace seemed so dim.
We came with hands outstretched, a silent plea, To offer solace, mend what could be sewn. But hope, like sunlight, struggled to break free, For the ship of life had reached its course unknown.
We, like small boats, set out on a tide, To save a vessel swallowed by the deep. But the wreckage lay silent, where dreams had died, A sunken hull where sorrow's tendrils creep.
Above the waves, a face turned skyward rose, Her hair a beacon, a fiery crimson crest. A heart laid bare, where love's sweet ember glows, Now shattered, yearning for a final rest.
She crumpled to the ground, a broken form, Seeking solace in the cold, unyielding earth. A final act, a love that weathered the storm, As heaven claimed him, and a piece of us took birth.
