Come what may.

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In the quiet shadows where grief takes its toll,

The smallest gestures etch deeply in one's soul.

A hand that lingers, a silence shared,

Moments of presence, showing they cared.

Not in the giving of grandiose gifts,

But in the heart's gentle, tender shifts,

A listening ear, without need for words,

A comfort unspoken, like the song of birds.

These are the threads, woven fine and tight,

That mend the heart through the endless night.

For grief is not fixed, but witnessed with grace,

Held in the warmth of a caring embrace.

In time, these gestures, though seemingly slight,

Become beacons of love, guiding through the night.

Reminding the weary, though the pain may stay,

They are not alone, come what may.