She walked in with a fractured heart,
and eyes that held the day.
But left beneath a broken sky,
with all her colours grey.
The world grew hard, the air turned cold,
the stars forgot to shine.
Yet far beneath the shattered ground,
there stirred a root of vine.
They crossed a door that should have stayed,
Through hands that failed our trust.
Warnings ignored, duty sleeps
The price was paid in dust.
For though the night had marked her soul,
and bent what once stood free,
the dawn still whispered through the dark:
We are more than a memory.
Smith Shine Poetry 
I think there’s always a “stir in the vine” with past relationships–universal grief and loss, learning, lessons, love, life—the gray exists, stars unseen, yet, deep the roots are alive. Beautiful!
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There’s a quiet force running through this poem—it doesn’t raise its voice, but it stays with you.
What stands out first is the emotional arc. You begin with fracture and loss, and the imagery immediately grounds it—“eyes that held the day,” “colours grey,” “broken sky.” It feels personal, but also universal, like it could belong to anyone who has carried hurt in silence. That restraint works in your favor; you don’t over-explain the pain, you let it breathe.
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