One single Teardrop,
pearl shaped…glistening,
dangling on the tip
of A fluttering eye-lash,
for a moment suspended,
and impulse incepts;
’twas a mere subtle blink,
yet, the Teardrop falls
and its journey takes
it’s fast, woeful course
curving and rapid,
like White-Water Rafting
that you saw in that movie
with Reynolds and red-necks
and twins with strange minds
with their dueling banjo’s,
and so goes the tear,
over chiseled cheekbone
where it stops for a rest,
yet, a sudden cough
rattles and quavers
the tiny moist drop,
and, it’s off once again.
Then an age crooked wince
allays it’s speed
as if to wash every pore
before its final destiny,
and how suddenly course moves
in a horse race finish fashion
striding, streaming,
reminding me-
of a Nantucket Sleighride.
Facial grimace taut, tight,
sudden movement shifts,
crows-feet no best friend
to the life of a single tear,
more wrinkled than before
it redirects its course again,
once destined for the jowl,
is now laterally streaking
towards a sad, trembling lip,
catching teardrop by its tail,
with its sprite, tartful taste
of salted laced grief
placed in between the seam
of a pair of quavering lips,
and, sour thus, meets sorrow,
such a sadly passioned couple!
Teardrop’s eventually disappear,
their Death quite apropos,
for their life-seed was sewn-
from a bitter taste of woe.
________ FjR ________
© 2015-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan, Jr./Fj
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