The skies were sewn shut
Bundled in grey
Swallowed
By treacherous grief

As the silver sun
Droned
In a lumbering stroll
Of doubtful
And heartless ease

Drifting
True, to the tune of day
Spacious
Sullen
And mute

Blood kin withdrew
Beneath their skin
To perish untethered
From the hail
Of humble words