Another year of days has passed,
days now longer and which the sun truly warms,
again branches blossom.
Looking up into their pale glory
I think to ask: has it been so long
since last we walked together
beneath greening trees and through cool grass
still wet with morning dew?
My heart knows the answer and my spirit the pain,
for even the gentle beauty before me brings no pleasure.
The brightest day is still dark without you.