Solace

I walked through barren parks
with Sorrow, hand-in-hand;
life's diacritical mark
only Time understands.

We tread an autumn leaf,
companion Sad and I,
oblivious in grief
a grey oak's child had died.

The grey oak asked of me,
"Why does your comrade weep?"
I answered, bitterly,
"My baby, that Death reaped."

"I understand such tears
and loss of precious things.
Cry. Accept. Persevere.
Then come to me in Spring."