Grief: A poem 

Grief is a loveless arm 

A broken promise lost of its charm 

The barren soil after a farmer’s toil 

A fruitless burning of midnight oil 

Meeting grief at every corner 

The child’s wish that the parent dishonoured 

The congealed ink of a writer’s block 

Age moving in on the clock 

But will I shudder at grief 

Or with its pain still live 

Letting its breeze through the window 

Its blazing flicker rock my shadow 

I will offer it a meal 

And my sunshine let it steal 

And courage will I thus muster 

For stoicism is grief’s master