The Wailing Figure

A figure weeps alone in the yard
Surrounded by mists that forever swirl
Always changing, never at rest
It is within these mists that lovers are lost
Friends are found and lives come and go
It is not this passing that creates sorrow
But the realization of what it means
The lost moments of time
Slipping away beneath our grasp
Not feeling all that we should
Not being all that we could
During the moments together
Fleeting realities that drift away
Always lost and sometimes found
A wandering thread of interrupted loneliness
One can only aspire to cherish these moments
How to hold on and when to let go
With love and honesty
Sometimes not alone in the yard