“Across me, there sits grief.
A person dressed in colours.
He tells me that the missing stays.

His eyes are like the marbles,
out the jar I sold.
His arms I do remember,
though now they are a little cold.

Across me, there sits grief.
A figure so well known.
He says he comes in waves.

The details are a little vague,
the sun had burnt it black.
But their fading voices,
still tell me about love.”

A.V.