Griev­ing is a process
It’s called that for a reason
For when it comes to visit
There isn’t a set season

With­out a bit of warning
It sneaks up from behind
Reek­ing pain and mayhem
With tears that leave you blind

Just as quick it lopes away
In preda­to­ry glee
Know­ing its has done it’s job
To make a mess of me.