Grief has its own colours
and it’s not always black and white
Sometimes it’s the last petal of cherry blossom
hanging in against the testy wind
Sometimes it’s the pale band on a
finger left by the ring worn for years
Sometimes it’s a smile slouching on red lips
Sometimes those dark circles carefully hidden
by concealer yet prominent to careful eyes
Sometimes grief is black and white
And sometimes it’s as plain as the person holding it

©penitdown