Affect

How hard it is to grieve when we can’t touch
Sight  is distant,  has no real affect
No wonder that the eyes  of  poor folk lurch
How hard it is to grieve when we can’t touch
Though from our hand an enemy might flinch
Or grasp too hard, the knife hid to deflect
How hard it is to grieve when we can’t touch
Sight can never see the true affect