Tears
by John Trent
The quiet hush of early morn's dark
Lowly and layered, fog blankets the wood
So beautiful, so comforting, it hangs o’er head
With beads of quicksilver grasping each needled leaf
"Be not afraid”, speaks the silvery drops
"Temporary our lives in this earthly realm”
With each falling whisper through the ancient pine
Familiar its echo and intensely understood
Smiling, I return, cherishing this moment
Wiping each tear as I begin anew
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