Grief is a sniper. No warning, none close, Just a scent or a sound or a word and CRACK! There's a hole in your heart and Tears bleed slowly down your face. Grief is a mugger. Sunny day, new job, Just a text pinging out of the blue and BAM! There's a punch to the gut and You can't breathe, no breath, just sobs. Grief is a ninja. A glimpse of a face, Just a shadow behind a shadow and Nothing. You are lost. Out of place. Grief is a bastard. Please can it stop now?

Late starting, I glide through lanes that earlier were wet and chill, and now are warm and dry under a high blue sky. I smile. My bicycle and I know the way and it seems that in a jiffy I am sitting, sipping coffee at the periphery of the square, Surveying a landscape of lattes and flat whites, families and gym-types, And a delivery guy, hunched over his bike, wrapped in a duffel, Too heavy, too warm for this day surely? The sun beams. The bunting barely twitches

The sun is low, catching the road just so To etch in ebony and gold the slow, Falling leaves and crooked, dripping branches. The hills,...

The boats don't come and the river shrinks. The seaweed and barnacles crack, Bleached on the feet of the jetty. And the gentle rain falls...

Abandoning my life Unfeeling in my flight I ran away from love And you I reveled in the new Remade myself anew Thought I was not alike...