GRIEF- POETRY

The clock struck twelve

And the moonlight shone through the window

From where I stood, a glass of scotch in hand

I could see the fair skinned girl standing on the shoreline

Her hair blew west in the wind

The moon making her appear to be but a ghostly apparition

I refilled my glass, and took another drink

And watched on, my sweet Melody

Though the haze, she looked back at me

A melancholy look was spread across her face

For a moment a smile fell upon my face

And a feeling of glee made my heart skip a beat

Then she turned away from me

And began to walk into the violent crashing waves “No!” I cried, as I began to thrash about

The glass in front of me shattered

Warm, red blood trickled from my hand

She looked back at me once more

Her hair dancing like ribbons in the wind

I drank the rest of the bottle

And hung my head in shame

The ghostly girl, my sweet Melody

Had now disappeared deep into the sea