I've Been Teaching My Eyes To Cry Poem by Mark Heathcote

With a photo out of an old mount
I've been teaching my eyes to cry.
Looking at you, questioning why,
why, you on earth vanished into nowt

Leaving me like the morning dew
displaced on the lawn yet to be mown
cut to manageable distances
my anguish grows at such lengths.

You leave me in desolate pastures.
Interweaving grief till it wretches
my soul, I am a woolblind sheep.
baaing, baaing far from the fold.

Could it be any worse, my child?
I guess with the adage of old age
I could become wise and mild.
But I'd rather teach my eyes to cry.

And lie in a ditch myself to die.
Then live with these briny tears.
That has now wrung out dry.
Into saltpan lakes, wasteland frontiers...