An old man once
Opened a wallet
Lying on the table

And was harshly rebuked
By his daughter
“The kid is in school
Leave her wallet alone.”

The kid watched on
And knew her mother’s heart
Who would bring the old man home?
From drunken stupor beside the stream

Grief has its own rites
Sometimes it waits not
For tears.
Some heartaches
Just ebb and flow
Some heartaches
Last longer than lives.

Some wallets
Lie unopened.