941. Sonnet: On the Death of My Beloved Mother!

SONNET 941
By JH Sayyar
The world grew still the moment you took flight,
No whisper left upon the wind remained,
Your absence turned the morning into night,
And all the stars above in silence waned.
Your voice, soft as petals on the breeze,
Now echoes faint in chambers of my soul;
No tender hand to calm my heart’s unease,
No smile to mend, sorrows make not whole.
But in the hush, I do feel your spirit near—
In quiet dreams, in my tears that softly fall,
You walk with me when no one else is here,
Your love, a lamp that burns in the sorrow’s hall

So death snatches you beyond my dim sight,
But your grace remains, my everlasting light.