I thought grief was:
A river to cross
A mountain to summit
A trail to walk
Now, grief is:
An outstretched hand
A delicate dance
With an old friend
Soon enough the song will end
But until then
I’ll learn the steps
The rise and fall
The ebb and flow
Until the final note is gone
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 2:18 PM UTC
I thought grief was:
A river to cross
A mountain to summit
A trail to walk
Now, grief is:
An outstretched hand
A delicate dance
With an old friend
Soon enough the song will end
But until then
I’ll learn the steps
The rise and fall
The ebb and flow
Until the final note is gone
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