The winds whistle my name
As I walk on this lonely path
Everything looks almost the same
Except the monuments ruined art

The heart was stained red
Tear marks on it's face I saw
The monument looked sad
On this bright day, it refused to glow

As I looked closer, I felt drips of water
Over my shoulder, as I stood near
A feeling of a mother, missing her daughter
In those still eyes, sipping out was its tear

I never thought stones could really cry
Crafted by men, a persona beautiful art
Even if I wipe out its tears to dry
I wouldn't feel the pain it bears in its heart...

©sim