My Bottle Of Grief
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I had to bottle up my grief,
when my dad died.
It was sudden when death came like a thief.
It was I, just a girl with tears to hide;
that went to the funeral home,
while outside my bottle was the world.
I still see those caskets where I had to roam,
and pick one- while in my bottle I curled.
I took time before I could shatter the glass,
and accept what is but the grief will not pass.
March 27, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/My Bottle Of Grief
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1008-212-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest Picture This
sponsor, Joseph May
Inspiration- Image #2
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2018
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