Emily Romrell

The lonely ache is here again
It likes to strike in the wee AM
Ghosts of loved ones haunt my mind
Some living, some dead, all removed by time
The deep ache hurts but pain tinges sweet
With memories renewed in each heart beat.
A pang of longing for special guests.
Who now only remain in my lonely breast.
It’s a paradox to have a heart so full
Yet also empty with this pain so dull.
And I wait once more for the sun to rise.
To renew my soul and dry my eyes.