Pradip Chattopadhyay - Grit

Nice to see you are opening the shop.

Saying this
I search for lines of distress on her face
On her widowed eyes a painful strain
For when went her man
The way she wailed
It seemed she would never be sane again!

She smiles now I run it alone
Sale is low
And I’m weighed down
With his pile of debt!

In her smile are hopes regrown
A telltale sign of grit

The show must go on.

Pradip Chattopadhyay

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/grit-4/