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.