DROPLETS
When life is held in a teardrop
every memory drenched in sobs,
how the heart swims in sorrow’s salient sea,
as the flood gate ducts bursts
and the mind is immersed in a tempest’s deluge.
Its waters irrigate the mental furrows,
spring comes in poignant petals,
all bearing a memories bloom,
you cry because the morn brought a harbinger
of dire portent in death knell gloom,
suddenly the farm in your soul
is torn by a twister’s crisis
all your dreams and futures
coming in holocaust images,
what you reaped in the past
left as dried and crumbled leaves,
no longer offering the scents of their joys,
aching to the bone
sensing that they will all die soon
because there is a doomsday looming on the doorstep.
But the spirit refuses to let
those precious grains of joy
be thrashed only as chaff,
for if the sunrise shall truly bring demise,
I will face it with all my bouquets in recollections
trusting in sweet assurance,
the Lord will not allow what I have sown
to end as merely wilted fragments
lost to time’s zephyr winds.
Inside they will be kept in a storehouse
ever warming no matter the pending change,
faith pouring out from the Holy Spirit’s pitcher
keeps them fresh and able to sustain.