On Those Days Poem Novels & Stories

"I need days. Weeks. Forever." "Then make these hours count."

The memory burning. “I wish you'd just died that day when you were ten. I wish they never revived you.” And then there was what Daniela had said when she agreed to go out with him. "Adrian, you passed my test. Now I believe you're really over that deaf girl. You and me. A date." Every single sentence felt like a needle piercing straight through his chest, and the pain was bone-deep. Adrian's vision went dark, and his mind suddenly jumped to that day at the mall.

The brat they called ungrateful… died the day they both went to cheer for Leo's tennis match. Now, my body was right here.

The tunnel looked endless as the gloom consumed the light, and the sound turned to pitiful echoes. The memory of Matthew and that fateful day surged forward and made my head throb with its aggression. I could almost feel the bile return, and my muscles twitch and contort again. ‘Be brave.’ The voice returned to me, singing like the seraphim in my ears. It was so clear I turned to look to see where it had come from. But there was no one, only the leaves dancing in the breeze from the wilting trees. Nothing but weeds ever grew here, no matter how hard people tried.

Day 49. 16 days. No ritual. No “just us. Still.” Just countdown. Just truth.

"We shall one day stand on the stage of highest honor and shine as brightly as the sun." I muttered softly, "I did it, Shawn. If there's a next life, I hope you'll achieve the same." A gentle breeze caressed my ears. I finally let go of my past in pursuit of a brand new future.

I can't promise the sun always warms the morning like the warmth of dew on a leaf I can't give the stars always shine but the light misses me every night I can't send a red rose every day but the embers of jealousy rage when you are far from me I can't compose a beautiful poem only my prayers as a guardian of your steps If the twilight stays orange even when it's cloudy, if the moon is still dim even in the dark then you're still my curved rainbow after the rain on my veranda that I always hug If the sky isn't always blue If the lake is not always green So let me paint you on a white canvas of the heart

Tears gently fell from his eyes as he read Grace’s favourite poem. “The sunny days are fewer; The morning dew dances on the grass, A little fog to let through gently the rays. A slower awakening of nature, A bit more chilly, so put on that jacket, Autumn is here. The remains of warmer days, Are still to be found in nature, And what a beauty! Stand still for a moment, Smell the flowers.”

Wi' nocht but clouds and hills to hear me, And when the world to rest was laid I'd watch for dawn and wish her near me, Till one by one the stars were gone, The moor-cock to his mate called clearly, And daylight glinted on the burn Where red-deer cross at mornin' early. The sweet, almost mournful tone tugged at Joanna's heart. The years are long, the work is sair, And life is aftimes wae and wearie, Yet Foyer's flood shall cease to fall Ere my love fail until my dearie. I'd loved her then, I loved her now, And could the world wad be without her.

Anywhere! I am blissfully surrounded by people who love me. And I love them back with all my heart and soul. Life is not all joy, but I think it is those dark days that make us appreciate and realize that every day and every moment is precious. Just as a famous book says, the one who made the day also made the night. The one who made the sun and rain also makes them shine and fall to the good and the bad, according to how they need them. Meaning everyone has their purpose of creation.