Your Tears

I catch your tears in cupped hands,
They slip through weary fingers
And fall to the earth.

Your tears water the rose
Which unfolds, petal by petal,
Until it becomes you.
On its petals, sits a tiny tear.

Slowly the tear glides down
The iridescent petal and falls
Into the waiting hands of an Angel.

Your tear becomes a waterfall
Within the Angel's hands,
Its cascading waters raining gently
On my soul.

You stand near the water,
Mist spraying softly on your face,
Becoming your tears,
Once again.

~My first poem, inspired by the loss of my dear friend, Danny.~

Michelle Elizabeth Bernard

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