THE BLACKENED LEAF

The eldest's shadow, long upon the floor, We stand as pillars, three within the frame, My sister blooms, the bud behind the door, While one within doth fan a flickering flame. His hands, like shadows, seek the hidden gleam, A thirsty soil that drinks the sunlit gain, He voids the promise of the hopeful dream, And sows the tempest on the placid main. The tender vessel of maternal grace Is stained by leaks his restless spirit spills, And in our hearth, a chilling, vacant space, Where hope retreats from unseen, sharp-edged ills. My weary vigil, bound by fraying thread, To mend the nets he tears, the words unsaid.