Teardrops

A teardrop is a life that's lost,

warm and salty against cloth,

and it falters on fast-held hands

clutched and grasping at rough

wool. It stands, as a dying monument

pooling in rivulets, and tough

against old leather gloves, it runs

down into cooling nothingness,

it runs over cracked shoes, the dirt

sown of old love, and to the ground.

And we still clutch at care-worn beads,

bound, for teardrops do not stop

loving when their life is lost.