Grief

The skitter swoosh and crackle of shore, my lullaby. The moon pulls it's watery blanket over my bed of pebbles and shingle where I lay like a forgotten corpse. It tucks me in and leaves me to close my eyes on a pillow made of lost hopes and spilled dreams.

Tomorrow will be better but for now the stars my nightlight. A ceiling that sparkles with the people I've lost and loved and missed. Souls that I need to keep me warm and full of light.

I sleep until my blanket gently recedes and the sun dresses me in a new day.