Grey Day

The last grey day I am to ever have
My love, this Thunder, has quietly passed
No words, no whimper; just a stoic gaze
Now, entered to past; an end to His days

Sweet Thunder, sweet Thunder
‘Tis my life you mercifully blessed
The pangs in my heart will not cease ’til death
And I struggle in vain with a poetic form
Unable to express the words betwixt my lips

Good Friday, they say
But it is the death of all saviors
I curse that they’ve passed
Such selfish behavior
Once again, I am lost
Lost in His absence

Now, I shall take a moment to honor his death
He bathed me in innocence and loved to mere jest
With an ornery eye, he announced his mischief
Scampering away just as you’d correct
‘Tis the end of His days; the mourn of this day
He was an immaculate Prince born of White and Grey

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