“Sadness”

Sadness is a quiet guest  
Who tiptoes through the unlatched door,  
She carries with her faded skies,  
Pale sunbeams stretched across the floor.

She sits beside you, silent, slow,  
Her fingers trace forgotten lines—  
Old birthday cards, unopened notes,  
A garden gone to tangled vines.

There is a weight within her gaze,  
A raincloud drifting through the mind;  
Yet, in her eyes, a shimmer stays—  
A memory not left behind.

She knows the places laughter lived,  
The warmth that lingers in a sigh,  
The hollow where a voice grew soft,  
A photo kept, a long goodbye.

But sometimes, as the evenings spread  
Their lavender upon your wall,  
You feel her brush your hair with care,  
And know she’s come to cradle all.

For in her arms, the heart can rest,  
Release the sorrow, let it flow;  
And when she stands at last to leave,  
You learn how deep the roots can grow.

Sadness may be a heavy guest—  
Still, from her gentle, honest stay,  
The seeds of hope, though pressed and thin,  
Can blossom softly, come the day.

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