Grief Doesn’t Do Boundaries

Tables, chairs, 
Thoughts, prayers;
Eyes, though wet
That soon forget.
Though love’s among
The elements,
Observers aren’t
Participants.

And this road never ends —
And while we’re glad for friends,
There are these lonely roads,
And hidden quandaries,
And grief just doesn’t do boundaries.

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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