To witness the path it carves;
It rolled down as smoothly as it could
Through the soft, lit terrain of my cheeks,
That housed decades of memories—
An ode to the archive of smiles.
I awaited —
As it would fall down on my chest,
That caged my heart.
But it slowed down...
Just before it could trickle down,
As if hesitating,
Assessing the strength of the heart that beat
Thousands of layers beneath.
Would those chambers be free enough
To accept the stories
That stirred in that tiny drop?
Would the DNA in the blood
That pumped through their doors
Identify one of their own...
And question the tearducts
For the betrayal of the veil?
Or would it be spellbound,
To finally witness a silent dialogue
And pause for a while?
A moment or more passed—
And the teardrop had its answer, perhaps.
It can't risk the fall
The cushioning might not be strong enough
To take the plunge.
Why risk the roads of the teardrops
That bear a hundred other addresses?
It curved and took the rougher slope,
An unmapped lane,
Among the shadows of the horizontal track
Glistening parallel to the chin,
And waited there for a while.
Until it evaporated
From the warmth...
Radiating from the lips adorning a smile.
Until it evaporated, slowly,
Into nothingness.
/ 42
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An odd number of stanzas with even number of lines
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An odd number of stanzas with even number of words
Beautifully penned. The tiny details stimulates the imagination of the reader.
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