The first drop of tears fell
rolled down the rosy cheeks
packed to the brim with love
has what the heart has to say
I would say, a tear does talk
tales of joy, of sorrow and more
some get buried in the pink lips
some die down in the waiting palms
like the lonely drops of rain
pure and virgin, yet it falls
ripped apart by the waitng sand
only to be drenched and drowned
standing by the window, in the rain
inside its cozy and so very warm
my soul now outside in the rain, all drenched
not waiting, but watching the falling droplets
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