Grief

The little boy

inside

wants to cry

but I won’t let him

the little boy

deep inside

would like to weep

but I can’t let him

because the tears’ 

artesian

would flood

inundate

and drown

and I have no 

happy Ark to bear me

to a smiling shore

and so!

afraid!

I bar and barricade

the door

keeping him immured

in dark

shan’t let him grieve

Betrayed –

eyes dry

he is content to wait

because he understands

my dry-eyed pride!

Then I realise – too late – 

the door opens

from his side.