Her eyes, frozen by life's cold embrace,
In stillness they gazed, a vacant space.
But as night unfurled its gentle lace,
The ice gave way to tears, a silent trace.
"The empty glass," they whispered, voices near,
Pouring tears into brokenness, so clear.
A metaphor, perhaps, for her silent tear,
Emotions unspoken, a heart's vulnerable sphere.
Tears like raindrops, filling the void,
A glass shattered, emotions deployed.
In the night's tender quiet, they're enjoyed,
A symphony of healing, sorrow's annoyed.
-Snowflake-
