A single tear,

A single tear,

Lachrymose crystal

Perfectly formed

Falling to the ground

As a white dove flies

Into the sun

Casting a shadow

On an upturned buggy

Wheels still spinning

An infant lying

On the grass

Swaddled in a blanket

I remember

From my childhood

And still it cries

I believe it too was me

Waiting to be

Discovered

Before the next

Tear fell

There was something

In the air

More than the sound

Of a church mouse

Or merely breathing

Calling me onward

A dreaming day

Without reason

Or purpose

Nothing moved

But the tears

Until the dread

Of something greater

Passed on by

Sweeping up

The remnants

Of a nightmare

The things we dream

When the fear of dying

All alone

Is greater than

The fear of growing old