Sorrow lingers in the quiet night,
A shadow soft, just out of sight.
It settles deep within the bone,
A heaviness we face alone.
It whispers gently, yet so clear,
Reminding us of every fear.
Of dreams once bright, now turned to gray,
Of love and loss and time’s decay.
The tears it brings are not of rage,
But slow and soft, with quiet age.
They carve their path through hollowed cheeks,
Where silence speaks the words we seek.
But sorrow, though it bends us low,
It is not the end nor the final blow.
For in its depth, the heart still yearns,
And through its pain, a lesson burns.
That joy and sorrow dance as one,
As moon tonight and day to the sun.
And though its weight may press us sore,
It shapes the soul to hold much more.
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