Archive
09/19/09
Though
Nearly daily, year after year, She cried tears of joy, Though she didn't know why.
They fell, to her cheeks, Like crucified clichés She believed were martyrs,
Possibly even messiahs, saviors, Come in the flesh, Though she couldn't tell whose.
Then, one dayless year, Joy left her tears. She didn't hear it go
Or see it rise or disappear, Like clichéd lake mist, Though her ears and eyes did.
09/19/09
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