Teardrop

It was at the end of the day,
When the weight of the world was slip,
Slipping away.
Sliding, slithering like the serpent from the shell of exhaustion.
When futility and desperate searching for:
What,
Exactly,
I did wrong.
Because I would fix it,
If I could.
Eyes glued open, tearing and teardrop.
Fearless, feathers on my breath.
And for my weeping willow wander I,
Be still my beating heart and hush the lonely blossoms.
Running to the shelter, slipping sideways,
To rest amidst the roots.
Reaching down,
So sorry to the fear behind your eye.
And there,
Fearless, feathers on my breath.
Teardrop frozen stiffly,
Stuck between the twigs and tearing tendrils of dismay;
What yonder, this way comes?
I'll watch, as starlit garlands sway,
Dreaming of another day.
Sheltered by the babbling brook,
Never speaking of the things it took.
To be this way.
Fearless, feathers on my breath.
-ElizaBeth ARt
2024
