Sorrow sleeps against my window,
Condensing into a murky fog.
The verdant oaks that brought me joy,
No longer seek to please the heart.
Days of sun and restful smiles,
Have prematurely fled my path.
Most lovely flames have waned to dust
Much love has failed to come to fruition.
Should there be ache in forseen loss?
Should fated grief be mourned forever?
If losing you was preordained,
Why must I live in constant sadness?