And when I weep are my tears
the color of the turquoise sky
or are they the white feathered
clouds floating by with their weighted sighs.
for all simple things may bring
the trickling rain with a beautiful pain
the fragrant nose of a blush pink rose,
the flash of green of a lovebirds’ wings
the golden knees of a bumblebee
the brilliant red on a woodpecker’s head.
Weeping seems to sit, on the very edge of my soul
often comes in haste with not an hour to waste
for each passing second so precious as I grow old.