I wrote a lot of poetry as a teenage. I don’t seem to have the passion for it any more but I still look at my poetry book every now and then.
A Tear Drops
A tear drops
from the eye
of a beholder.
Fear or understanding
of the happening
rattled her
from a dark grave
of innocent bystanding.
The single tear
long impacted
the soft soil
of the upturned garden
before she inhaled
the sweet aroma
of stewing rhubarb
from her mothers kitchen,
which startled her
into awareness.
Bending down, she covered
the ladybird with earth.
Thanks for reading!