karen sinclair Poems
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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
Murmurs... Wanton Soup
Where once we floated, happy croutons.. in a hot and salted soup
Blissfully unaware of all but us...us desirous, two...
We bobbed... in self indulgence.. hot and sour..
We sipped, we smiled, we whiled away many a handsome kiss