Not all absences leave that space,
some are shadows that limit the bond,
like echoes floating in the quiet breeze,
where laughter was music and now is a ballad.
They are gone, and yet their weight is felt,
a burden of memories, a latent love,
are whispers that fill every last corner,
in the depths of the soul, their bitter song.
They do not return, but the open wound remains,
a sigh of longing, a door opened.
Memories are waves breaking on the beach,
each shared instant becomes an outburst,
even if the body is far away, the spirit is dear.
Absences that weigh, do not go with the light,
they are the traces of time, paths that don't cross,
they are seas of nostalgia, with storms and calm,
and in their difficult presence, the echo of the soul lives.
