a single tear I shed <br />that tear becomes <br />a tear <br />a single tear in my tapestry of sentiment that <br />is inconsequential <br />until more tears are shed <br />and more tears are made: <br />gouged, ripped, blazed through <br />my suspended core. <br />build: scarring, destroying, <br />totalling my creation. <br /> <br />love is an hourglass. <br />the sands of hurt and the sands of time <br />plunk, plunk, plunk through that <br />measured channel. <br />the bottom bulb sits <br />tapping its fingers <br />in a pyramid <br />with a stretched lip and a taut brow <br />waiting to be filled <br />waiting to win. <br />and without careful hands <br />to interrupt its progress <br />and turn the instrument <br />top-to-bottom <br />the burning sand <br />and scheming half <br />will claim their prize. <br />time will run out.<br /><br />Morgan Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-can-make-analogies-too/
