karen sinclair Poems
Death Of A Tear......
The fresh tear, heavy with meaning and purpose
Travels southbound upon my warm skin.
Full of reason and pain, I watch
Distracted by it's beauty
Questioning its lifespan as I do the life in my love
First it rushes with gusto, confidence
Only to slow eventually at an undefined moment
For no real reason, with no apparent explanation
(as in my love) It petered to a dribble
And unaware of it's poignance
The dusty window frames her form
Silhouetting her fragility as evening falls
With hands as gnarled oak
Clasping the unvarnished rocking chair
Her painfully crooked feet gently cause a methodical tone
Upon the now jaded rug...
Hypnotic as time...
Head relaxed tilted window bound her mind caresses visions of times