A poem of grief

We woke and, in our waking, we found a loss most profound
in the earliest hour of morning, she passed
never to be heard to laugh lustily over long luncheons again
dear friend, this ending
it may be too soon, to compose, or sit in repose to contemplate
vicissitudes of fate, it is the steep cliff we foresaw
now plunging we seek handholds in the cruel cold stone of death
it may be too soon…

For C

Chris Adelaide 2025