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If tears could talk as gentle fall
they gather all in misty path that’s made.
On flushed cheeks like warm ‘soft nymphs of sadness’
huge droplets fill sad eyes, as cleansing in their wake
this pain so deeply felt.

 

Whirlpools of feelings from damaged heart and soul.
A  loss that cannot be repaired or replaced,
these tears that bring clemency to my needs.
Rinsing. glistening lashes, streaky as torrent falls,
a quiet private heart-rending washing
that completes to soothe.

 

Until futurity this sacrament of release will return
giving focus and a little courage.
If tears could talk… their wordless perpetual out-pour
would denounce all pain.
If tears could talk…

 

~This poem was and is dedicated to Dianne West who lost her beloved husband Vern, after a courageous battle with Multiple Myeloma in September 2010 but now having lost my Hamada in November 2010 to the same disease. I find myself  once again drawn to it for comfort~