Past possessions,
Of an altered ego,
Display themselves gently,
On the highest roof top of the square,
Swaying themselves gently with the wind.

Whispered thoughts,
Of their inanimate minds,
Creep into the creativity,
Of the world’s implemented desires,
Capturing and poisoning the human mind.

To look is without faith,
In breach of a contract,
That is perfectly indefinite,
To the things that we can’t reach,
In the end they are perfectly intangible.

Like love,
To whom the soul cries.
Though we can’t see,
Emotions we imply,
We feel.

Tears of jubilance,
Tears of war,
Tears of courtesy,
Tears of  envy,
Tears of more.

To take the time,
To tell the tale,
Tells thee,
That tears travail,
Today.

© Robyn G Neymour