Laurence Overmire


a quiet tear


a tear trickles down the side of a face
haphazardly
not knowing why it was shed

skirting across the cheek
it hangs on the lip for one last precarious moment
watery fingers clinging to beloved flesh

till strength gives way
a precipitate falling to the floor
quietly

without notice or distinction
disappearing into the dark warmth of the wood
no vestige of joy or pain

to mark its passing.


(Previously published in Kookamonga Square, July 2000; The Poet's Porch, Feb.2002)

Submitted: Thursday, December 21, 2006
Edited: Tuesday, December 14, 2010

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