The stuff of cemeteries

When life becomes a thing of cold hard marble.

When your touch feels the chill

of placing your hand on a tomb.

Searching for warmth and another's touch

when nothing is left but the emptiness of absence.

That is when grief is in your heart.

The chill remains with you every day

I was lucky to have you,

hold you.

Be in your company because this moment is

ever so brief and precious.

You can never hold onto anything

just the love in our hearts

which echoes and reverberates through

bereaved souls.

When things become the stuff of cemeteries and funerals

when the touch of cold marble tombstones

are little consolation against the heat of fresh grief.

When death falls all around you

then that is the time to stop and breathe

hold onto the ones you love

it is impossible to say goodbye

so make memories

search out happiness and

follow what gives you the spark

which is life itself.