To

If a voice was attached to raindrops,
How would they actually sound,
Like the splatter of falling tears,
That waters the dreams we’ve found,
If our teardrops could actually speak,
Would they whisper or would they scream,
Never even slowing down,
Some invisible flowing stream.
 
 
Could tears be a dying dream,
Should we be glad they have no voice.
Screams would echo through the night,
With our hearts having no choice,
A salty flow from eye to skin,
That slowly travels down,
Watering all our memories,
Those we’ve lost and those we’ve found.
 
 
Is a teardrop filled with emotion,
Does it need some words to say,
It’s life to soon evaporate,
As it washes the pain away,
Under that teardrop’s surface,
Held close by the water’s embrace,
Is a dreams solitary effort,
While the path to our dreams we chase.
 
 
A teardrop cleanses watering eyes,
Leaves a trail on a rosy cheek,
With eyes closed as tears fall down,
It seems the soul has sprung a leak,
Teardrops might make us feel better,
Might somehow lessen our pain,
Cried for a variety of reasons,
Like raindrops or falling rain.
 
 
Rain is needed for us to live,
Water a thing life needs,
Are tears then water for hidden love,
The one way our hearts can bleed,
Eyes have different colors,
Yet all teardrops are mostly clear,
A voice that whispers we’re all the same,
That echoes from the falling tear.
 
A tear is shed for sorrow or pain,
But also for happiness,
The tears we cry late at night,
Are for love still living in the chest,
Tears might fall from bright blue eyes,
And you might think they’re caused by pain,
Love is watered by their flow,
But their salt still leaves a stain.

January 31, 2017

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