a dirge

O mournful winds that whisper through the night, 
Bear forth the echoes of a soul’s lament, 
Where shadows dance in sorrow’s pale moonlight, 
And every tear, a silent testament. 

The stars, like distant memories, now fade, 
In twilight’s grasp, the heart’s deep ache is found, 
A dirge of love, in grief’s cold arms arrayed, 
Where once was joy, now sorrow’s chains are bound. 

The flowers wilt, their petals kissed by frost, 
As time’s relentless march does steal away, 
The warmth of life, in death’s embrace now lost, 
Yet in our hearts, thy memory shall stay.