Inheritance of Absence

Not jewels nor gold, this legacy I hold,

A hollow space where laughter used to ring.

A tapestry of whispers, stories told,

Of someone loved, a face I never cling

To memories, for they're a borrowed light,

Reflected from another's teary eyes.

A name that dances on the edge of night,

A phantom warmth, a love that gently dies.

This absence hangs, a weight upon my chest,

A constant echo in an empty room.

I trace their path, by tales that put to test

The fragile threads that weave a parent's bloom.

But in this void, a seed of strength takes root,

A yearning to fill what's left unseen.

To honor them, bear their forgotten fruit,

And paint my world in colors bright and keen.

For love, they say, transcends the mortal coil,

It lives within, a guiding, gentle hand.

This legacy, though wrapped in shades of soil,

Will urge me forth, across the shifting sand.

So let me bloom, a testament to love,

Though branches reach for what they cannot touch.

This inheritance, a gift from up above,

Will shape my soul, and I will love them much.