In little measure, perhaps like salt,
Grief makes life bearable.
Sometimes stacked between the unimportant news items of pages 5 and 6;
Sometimes, worn like an ornament, flaunted – unlike loneliness and melancholia – the crown jewel;
Sometimes, a window dressing,
inviting you to take a peek inside my mind,
And find there, sitting pretty, among mold and moth eaten pages – grief.
Of a lost place, a person long gone, a feeling no more – shadows in place of what once was.
You will always find me waiting.