how water travels

there is nothing beautiful in crying storms from the screams of discontent
falls black into shadows without the reflection of light
beautiful tears can fall from my eyes in current at the softness of your voice
they travel after a song to my palms, the surface and the curvature of my fingers
when gently fisted from joy, they fall after the rhythm of these words as they move
from keys like a prayer, today I am suspicious
of the sky; the tears will fall like rain and settle like growth
and the children outside my window will become flowers, flippant and colorful with hope.

4 thoughts on “how water travels

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