When the grief comes back
I cannot just ignore it,
like I do with some things.
All I can do is try to stay out of its way.

I think of it as a train,
with brakes that don't care
if they stop the loaded cars
full of our dreams and the essence of you
we shared under the same stars.

The captive tracks
were laid out by you long ago,
a virtuoso of some note,
along the path of who you were.