| Written: NOV 30, 2003 |
These tired eyes neglect to cry,
Serving as scouts only.
They’ll not bleed on the battlefield
Of the heart. Silent witnesses,
They’ll bear all that must be born;
Considering the emotive outbursts,
But they speak not a word.
Their tree rings of tears
All but forsook,
Belly their seen tragedies.
When all I love comes to an end,
Their perseverance will not,
And at my funeral:
I’ll cry not at all.
