Ah, there he is again, Grief with his
golden eyes gleaming in the dark,
those molten hellfire orbs.
He crawled in through the open window,
I guess, to sit upon a straight-backed chair
and watch me sleep.
Too late —
seeing him, I close my eyes, but he rises
from his seat, scuttling across the
floor on cloven feet, to poke
his gnarled gray finger in my eye.
It’s all he does, his only power now
that so much time has flaked away,
But oh —
the tears!
