Not Silly

Is it so silly to mourn the torn shards of fabric?
Their softness and vibrance lost 
to the ocean's turbulent waves?

No, it's not silly to mourn the loss
of the softness of a puppy's fur, 
the vibrance of a white
the color of angel's wings, 
the way it fit me like a second skin. 

No, it's not silly to mourn the loss
of the softness of the twilight before the dawn, 
of the vibrance of a white reminiscent of doves, 
the way it accentuated me perfectly. 

No, it's not silly to mourn the loss
of the softness of a warm fire
welcoming you in from the cold, 
the vibrant white of fresh fallen snow. 

No, it's not silly to shed tears
for something so wonderful
as what this once was. 
And now it's only a pale shadow
in comparison.