Tears Fall Silently

Tears Fall Silently

Tears fall silently, soaked in grain,
their silent weeping an endless strain.
The wood absorbs every drop of grief
as sorrow sneaks past, seeking relief.

Each tear a whisper, a darkened flood
in hidden chambers soaked in blood.
Wooden heartaches beneath the floor’s crust.

The scent of anguish, deep and raw,
woven in the timber’s silent law,
where the past’s sorrows softly brood.

Quietly they seep, a muted flood.
Memories stain with each drop’s dive
as the floorboards’ veins keep dreams alive.

In the stillness, the dampened tales
of ghosts and shadows, their spectral trails.
Their sorrow is deep, buried in wood,
unheard, unspoken, yet understood.

Listen close to the creaking floor
and hear the echoes of tears’ implore.
In the quiet, the whispers scream,
trapped in the wood where sorrows dream.

Where once was laughter now remains
a silent sorrow, the wood’s refrain.
The floorboards cradle each drop of woe,
in their solemn depth, secrets flow.

The tears that fall are not in vain
but a buried story of pain and gain.
The wood absorbs with each mournful drop
till the echoes of the past finally stop.

Tears fall silently, soaked in pain.