Indulge the poet

 
                          Indulge the poet

                      It's easier in poetry.
                      Disjointed lines.
                      Because that's what grief is.
                      One disjointed thought after another.

                      No rhyme or reason.
                      Memories bobbing in and out.
                      Uncontrolled, uncontrollable.
                      At the mercy of the tide.

                      Ebb, flow - a sea of emotions.
                      Welling, emptying.
                      Impossible to predict,
                      Impossible to stem.

                      Indulge the poet.
                      There is a need.
                      Impossible to express
                      In any other way.

         
    Trish