Around the darkest hour,
Few inches from my stalwart arm was a glass of whiskey on the table shelf.
And a photo frame hanging over my rocky bed.

The feeling of grief crawled upon me and I was smitten by its haunting jest.
Far beyond my urban stead, was a Queen lying amongst the departed on their glorious bed.

The land has swallowed my precious gem, covered in dust never to breathe our precious air!
Trying to embrace her transient,...