Death – Page 2 – Hearts Still Care

your book

Published on December 21, 2024December 21, 2024 by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

I was cleaning a drawer
Filled with documents and such.
A book I had stashed away
Peeped out from a corner.

It had your poems and accounts
And an old, faded rose.
I forgot if you or I had saved the bloom,
But your handwriting was enough
To send me into a spiral.

The pages of the book were yellow,
Your words were written in pencil,
Your handwriting curvy
And almost illegible.
It was a struggle;
Then your voice
Shone in the words.

The first paragraph I read
Struck me—like a surprise hug.
It was about a sadness
And a wait—like all of life,
With dried petals caught in between.

You reached out to tell me
The written word means much;
It finds light and memory
Through life’s corners in dirty drawers.

Wherewithal

Published on June 21, 2023 by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I write in contrived rhyme,
Of love found, and of love lost,
Through the years, what I achieved
And exactly what it truly cost.

Why do most get a careless sleep,
When dark thoughts harass me so?
Why do I ask these stupid questions,
When their answers I already know?

Giving of myself comes easy;
Though I am no stranger to my worth;
I ought to be less human to
Carry on life, no matter the hurt.

I am tired of this roller coaster,
I am tired of the bitterness and pain,
I’m even tired of the truthful smiles,
That I know will surely come again.

I know love alters, when it shouldn’t,
I know death hangs around to take us all,
Yet I know I’d do it all just the same,
For I know, I’ve, within, the wherewithal!