A widow in the neighborhood
Who lives up the street,
Saw me on my morning walk.
Soon our eyes did meet.
She crossed the road to hold me,
Sweetly. Like a mother
Might hold an injured child,
To kiss and make things better.
We spoke at length of love and loss,
About the loneliness.
She let me cry, to rage and try
To make sense of the madness.
She didn’t try to tell me
That things would get much better.
No platitudes, no attitudes
Or judgements on this matter.
I dried my eyes, her dog just cried
And strained to walk further.
She moved on, leash in one hand,
Our grief clutched in the other.