The only words in me, the only sights my eyes can comprehend have no joy in them, no color to brighten the mind. Only this silence of gray shadows, this chill on the soul, a harrying wind of biting grief to endure.

I must, will, endure, a hard toll for sure. For my heart holds to the sweetness, the completeness of knowing you, of loving you and being known and loved by you, a beat patterned to the core. May this heart's memory hold true and the day come, sometime, where I'll once again lean into the strength of you.

Only not this night, during this season of winter harsher than snows, for I can just cry, so cold, so lost for you.

I cry.

I cry.

I can only cry for my love, my dear.

A quick little painting

A tri-color english hound, available

Just a quick study done on prepared paper and only 3 x 3". I do like working small, although this is really small! I do not know this hound's name, only he hunted for Rolling Rock. As a whipper-in, names were always my weak point. Could easily visualize a hound, but that was rarely adequate when, say, a huntsman was asking who an errant hound was!