An Overcast Forever

A sky so clear it seemed

the sun had stitched its light

into every corner of the world.

You stood beside me then,

warm as summer on bare skin,

and I believed forever

was something we could hold.

But love is a weathered thing.

Slowly, clouds gathered

at the edges of our horizon,

small at first,

easy to ignore,

easy to call passing.

Then came the gray.

Not a storm,

not thunder,

not the kind of ruin

that announces itself.

Just an overcast silence

rolling between us,

turning bright fields silver,

stealing shadows from the ground.

I watched the sunlight fade

from your eyes before I knew

I was standing alone beneath it.

Now I wander that same landscape,

remembering how it once glowed,

searching for warmth

in a sky that no longer remembers the sun.

And still,

when the clouds hang low

and the world grows dim,

I swear I can see

a trace of that golden morning,

the ghost of a beautiful day

before it learned how to mourn.