81. For Me

 Subtle tears, oceans of
      vivid emotion and thought,
 Bringing back mem’ries
      of white roses stained red--
      frail fingers on horrid thorns.
 Tears of pain, nor strife
      are these drops of life,
 But joyous tears of happiness,
      for with the endless words
      I’ve written since birth,
 Never had I heard a
      single word written for me
      until your loving words echoed through
      my ears as a snow-capped wasteland
      suddenly a pasture of blossoms divine,
 Changing my life; changing my words
      with wondrous dreams of what
      tomorrow’s sunrise will bring.