given time
the edge of grief blurs
becomes a blunt thing
no longer sharp glass
cutting away at the soul
but more of a bruise
that one learns to live with
given time
every step does not
cause the dust of memory
to rise and choke the walker
bht becomes a fragrance of
day past, that you catch when
the wind is right...
given time
the words spoken
by well meaning friends
have come true..
and seeds of a new life
sown in fields of grief
flower and give fruit
given time ...given time
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
given time
the edge of grief blurs
becomes a blunt thing
no longer sharp glass
cutting away at the soul
but more of a bruise
that one learns to live with
given time
every step does not
cause the dust of memory
to rise and choke the walker
bht becomes a fragrance of
day past, that you catch when
the wind is right...
given time
the words spoken
by well meaning friends
have come true..
and seeds of a new life
sown in fields of grief
flower and give fruit
given time ...given time
Request permission to use this poem