I look at the ceiling because the door is closed.
The path I saw in our future has been diverted.
I still hold her hand.
Her hand still holds mine.
But they will never hold the same way again.
A weight on my shoulders,
A dark cloud over my head,
Part of me wants to lie down and cry.
I hear her voice ring,
“There is always light at the end of the tunnel.”
However dim it might seem, the light is there.
A token on her finger, a reminder:
No matter what,
No matter when,
No matter how, I will always love you.
Sleep the sleep of angels tonight—
Our door is closed, but many others remain open.
