Playing With Teardrops Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Listening to the whistle of the lonesome train taking my
heart into depths of sadness where I look around, playing
listlessly with teardrops continually filling my being.

Silently and selectively pouring my heart into depths of
this interior ocean, shimmering and glistening in path-
ways of grief, never leaving room for joy or happiness.

Solemn, always crying, never hearing anything except that
lonesome train whistle calling to me throughout this life,
letting nothing come between us except tears falling into
it's sounds.