Behold the greif of your son

All senses inhale
that which speaks of loss
Exhale grief, son
Soul notes float up
Drifting from the deep
Melancholy tears from fingers
Flooding the keys
Perfume hangs low, near the unvaccumed
carpet
You speak to me of death, soul
You speak of love
You speak the language of bitter tears
Exiting unbidden
So bittersweet,
The taste of soul blood
Minor notes falling from trees
Gently sighing
Sad with love and longing
Bone dry
Father, behold,
Behold the grief of your son
Be not deaf to the souls
unseen weeping, Father
Behold the grief of your son