Grief
Grief sups away the nectar
That gives life its industry
And mocks the nature of a soul
To define mortality.
It rises from... I know not where
To shake us to the core
Bringing passion to our heartache
As the wolf stands astride the door.
But like the tide... it ebbs and flows
With no thought for you or me
And no matter how we suffer...
It ponders endlessly.
The End
Copyright © David Mchattie | Year Posted 2024
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