Teardrop Spoken
I sit here contemplating
Nearly everything I've seen
Silent in my wondering
As if it were a dream.
My open arm confession
Has spoke to the sky
And in that empty moment
I feel as if to cry.
But teardrops stain the parchment
As the ink to run the page
Gentle in its downward flow
As thoughts get washed away.
For dreams are held with silence
And empty handed words
Into every teardrop
That falls just to be heard.
Teardrop Spoken ©
