Grief

Poetry by Rebecca Clair

Grief

 

Grief wears a long gray bathrobe

With a hood pulled over his eyes.

When he makes it off the couch

Which he seldom does

He takes long walks in the cemetery

To see those that he loved.

When people leave casserole dishes on his porch

They go cold and a garden of mold is grown.

With eyes that are sunken deep into his head

Grief looks as though he would rather be

Dead

About Rebecca Clair 214 Articles

Rebecca Clair is a freshman at Clayton A. Bouton High School.