Loss is not that first stab,
Nor the numbness that follows.
Loss is not the nights after,
Nor tears shed heavily into pillows.
Loss is coming home full of news,
Only to find an empty house.
Loss is forgetting and setting the table for two,
Or turning to speak to vacant air.
Loss is to laugh alone.
Loss is not the first stab. Loss is noticed through death. Carefully we should feel loneliness. Later on forgets and settles life. A nice poem is excellently penned.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
LOSS a stair step up to successful /// beautiful poem penned