The Beauty of Her Tears
by cricketjeff on March 30, 2016. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
I saw her in the corner but I only saw her eyes
So beautiful, so sad, and so alone.
She didn’t seem to see us or to hear our mournful sighs
I thought the fire that burned inside had flown
She saw no other mourner and she didn’t try to speak
But I saw past her sadness and the diamonds on each cheek.
His widow read from Shakespeare and his son that Auden rhyme
A grandson called him “Pops” which raised some cheers
His colleagues called him gifted and a man before his time
But she sat there in silence and her tears
The first time he had kissed her it was praise she thought she’d earned
Her second job, a temp to hold the fort till Joan returned.
The vicar hadn’t known him but pretended that he had
He’d had no time for gods or ancient myths
Expected words and praises for a business man and dad
He had been told to mark the deal with Smiths
When Joan remained a mother she had taken on her role
Efficient unobtrusive, and he called her “China Doll”
I knew that they were lovers, though they never gave a clue,
No gossip ever stained his hallowed brow
But conferences and courses, then a seminar or two
Cemented love that only ended now
I guess I’ve always loved her, I can wait a few more years
But I’ll not forget this picture, or the beauty of her tears
Author notes
Far too many lines please feel free to DQ me!
English