Immediately the oyster felt it, a piece of grit, a source of pain.
The little creature could not expel it; every attempt was in vain.
How to endure this rank discomfort? How to bear it and survive?
The Oyster had but one solution, one thing left for it to try.
Each day the oyster’s own secretions coated that tiny piece of grit
And in the end, when all was done, the oyster made a pearl of it.

When, like me, you lose a parent while still young.
There is this pain you bear inside.
Each day it haunts your waking thoughts
However you might try to hide.
Day by day you seek to cope, though it seems helpless at the first.
A year or more might pass before you feel that you’ve survived the worst.

Time, like that oyster, seeks to heal; to encapsulate loss and regret;.
Tim to heal, Time to grieve, just accept you can’t forget.
So you keep your public face and show that bravely to the World
Until the lacuna in your soul, with Time’s mercy, becomes a pearl.