grief is a funny little thing
Grief is a funny little thing, Most days, I forget. What it was that I was grieving, What melodies carried my laments. Because most times I feel empowered, I am strong, I forget the thing. But grief comes and goes like a funny fling. The pillow that I sleep on A night, so quiet and tender. Creeps in under the blanket, weighted footsteps dipping the mattress; My sorry bed. Like a lover, long forgotten --- returning. Grief like a rushed spring Gone cold for all the mundane, And when the day is good; meets me at the curb. As if to say, Darling, you've grown lovely! Rousing the lulled grief; Making it a verb.