A poem of utter utter misery and despair

(in response to the devastating news here)

A winter chill has gripped the land,
The warmth has all but gone,
The feeble sun sits pale and bland,
Where once it brightly shone.
The balmy air’s been blown away,
With ostentatious grieving,
A dismal grimness haunts the day,
For Niamh has said she’s leaving.

The geese have circled once and left
For warm and pleasant places,
The world is lonely and bereft
Of shining, smiling faces.
A patch of blue sky might appear,
Spuriously deceiving,
But swirling leaves all whisper clear
That Niamh has said she’s leaving.

The dark clouds gather in the west,
A massive storm is brewing,
My heart is heavy in my breast,
I care not what I’m doing.
My tears well up behind my eyes,
My chest is hard and heaving,
No happy faces can disguise
That Niamh has said she’s leaving.

The first few drops come falling lightly,
Like tears of desolation,
I pull my coat around me tightly
And seek some consolation.
I reach my house and stare aghast
At what damned fate’s conceiving,
Although I knew it could not last,
I can’t believe she’s leaving.

The trees are bending ‘neath the strain
Of unrelenting pressure.
The wind is lashing on the rain,
And still it’s getting fresher.
Huddled figures cower in fright,
Blank-faced and disbelieving,
Faces ashen, deathly white,
For Niamh has said she’s leaving.

I press my face against the pane,
And watch the raindrops falling,
My thoughts befuddled by the rain,
A vista quite appalling.
My dreams, once bright and full of hope,
In darkness now are weaving.
Oh, how am I supposed to cope
Now Niamh has said she’s leaving?