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.