by Lauren Cooper
(1964 - 1999)
It grieved alone, quietly, grey upon the chin,
A drop of something from the heart; from somewhere deep within.
A sign of something. Joy? No, sorrow:
It grieved not for itself alone, but for the tears to follow.
It hesitated on the chin, and whimpered a soft lament
Afraid of falling feet below, or wherever it was sent;
Alone it stayed, trembling, just beneath the cheek,
A herald of another; the herald of the weak?
It shimmered, shook and sighed, so loath
To leave its maker's sore
And bloodshot eyes, and running nose,
To fall onto the floor.
But worst of all it feared to see
Another tear upon the shore.
For that would be too hard to bear -
It sighed, and dripped onto the floor ...