The Tear

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  • Fantasy

    The Tear

    On my breast rest

    The

    Face of a restless
    Tear

    Quickly dry as dust

    And blown away by the
    Dry winds

    From the frosty sun
    Chill

    Short lived the restless
    Tear

    For death creeped upon
    me alas

    Muted lips

    Dried all rivers flow
    Within ..


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    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

    candysears’s Poems (36)

    Title Comments Submitted
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