In the quiet of the night, a whisper calls,
Through the dim-lit halls of memory’s embrace,
A dance of shadows on these empty walls,
Grief lingers softly, leaving not a trace.

Once filled with laughter, now a silent space,
The echo of your voice a distant dream,
A heart that yearns for one more warm embrace,
Lost in the current of a tearful stream.

Each moment shared, now turned to phantom pain,
A haunting presence in the ebb and flow,
In every tear, a story to retain,
Of love and loss that only hearts can know.

Yet through the sorrow, strength begins to bloom,
In the garden where the heartache lies,
A fragile hope emerges from the gloom,
To light the path where memory resides.