On crying

A poem on crying.
Cry like a candle
softly on the ground,
like a mother holding her
firstborn and overwhelmed by its sound.
Cry like a pack of wolfs
crying from afar,
like a kid tending
skinned knee’s scar.
Cry like the silence
preceeding a storm,
like someone for the
first time leaving home.
Cry like the ice-
metling but numb,
like a wife placing
flowers on her husband’s tomb.
Cry like a river
slowly running dry,
like once a heart wrenching
memory is now slipping by.

Stubbornly optimistic, a listener of the universe and follower of my dreams. Coffee, smell of new books, long walks, old melodies, good sense of humour, and poetry light me up. I want to be happy when I grow up.

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