Iceberg
Proud Member
Poetry is magically interpreted in several ways, depending on the state state of mind of the reader, but this somehow
touches me, but I think that I could never interpret this poem ....
touches me, but I think that I could never interpret this poem ....
The Last Tear
Your words stabbed my heart, and I cried tears of pain. "Get out!" I shouted. "These are the last
tears I'll ever cry for you." So you left.
I waited hours, but you didn't return. That night by myself I cried tears of frustration.
I waited weeks, but you had nothing to say. Thinking of your voice, I cried tears of loneliness.
I waited months, but you left no sign for me. In the depths of my heart, I cried tears of despair.
How strange that all these tears could not wash away the hurt! Then one thought of love pierced
my bitterness. I remembered you in the sunlight, with a smile as sweet as May wine. A tear of
gratitude started to fall, and miraculously, you were back. Soft fingers touched my cheek, and
bent over for a kiss.
"Why have you come?" I whispered.
"To wipe away your last tear," you replied. "It was the one you saved for me."