It starts ever so slow.
Creeping in through the threads of body.
The colours turn to greys behind your eyes.
What would trigger this thing we call grief.
Whatever it is, is not gracious or sympathetic.
A memory, song, smell or a smile.
It cares not if you smiling or happy.
In the moment it takes grip, it weakens the strongest.
Strengths the weakest, strips away the falseness.
Lays to waste the single thought, no more tears.
Then they are there, the salty water drops.
Pouring out from your eyes.
Leaving stains of woe for all to see.
A moment’s surrender is no reprieve.
After time the memories fade, woe is less.
Though the hole left in the loss closes never.
Just smile, for tomorrow the grey will have colour again
Remembering is better than to forget someone so loved.
So cry, the tears cleans and renew.
One moment of love, is better than none.
Wednesday child you are not the only child full of woe.
