The vigil

How can the bastard time tick on

with us still here and you now gone?

And yet it does, even as I am writing these words,

while I sit here and make up useless rhymes to make me

forget a moment the way I hurt.

A person may lose all names but one

and scream for their loss till they come undone

and keep a stiff upper lip and a dry eye.

And so, until for me the hours cease to go by,

I’ll keep quiet vigil, only my heart will cry.

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