How To Bear It?

There must be moments
when you forget he’s gone.
When you think, he’ll be ready
for a cup of tea and a biscuit by now,
or you realise you haven’t seen him
for a while…

ah, you think to yourself,
to your lone self, to yourself alone,
he’ll be pottering in the potting shed
he’ll be coming up the path
about to open the door…


I would knock on your door
but all I have for you
are these few
poor

words

that let you know
I am thinking about you,
as I said I would do,

but which are inadequate
and might,
if you are having some respite
from your grief and trouble,
be what, today,
would burst your bubble.
Sorry.

Little Bear