Sorrow and I like a grey crow perched on a black cow's back— we bear each other's weight just fine.
Sorrow and I like grandmother's beloved silver hair— even when wet, we never change color.
Sorrow and I like cloth hung on the courtyard line— we gather all the dust onto ourselves.
Sorrow and I like butterflies flitting leaf to leaf— even with torn, trembling wings, we don't fall.
Sorrow and I like a sliver of rainbow in the sky of despair— from far away, we seem so close to home.
Sorrow and I like dried teardrops of faded youth— we wring the heart to wet the heart.
Sorrow and I like that faithful picture hanging on the wall— what won't let go even when abandoned.
❤️❤️