Bitter Tears Poem by Charlotte Ballard

My bitter tears curse down my face
To lap at the edges of my despair
I hold that which must be freed
And cannot capture that which is mine

Why does the forest pine for the maidens fair
That come and pick the merry blooms
That creep almost out of reach?
They long to hear the cries of the morning bird
Harking his tale of woe.

I need to hold the blossoms bright
That capture the morning dew.
I long to bring out to the light
Those misty day of old.

Bring me my children
Those that burst bright with song.
Bring me, Bring me my Children
Careful not to hurt their song.

There are not many more days for me
to put these verse down.
As my bitter tears course down my face.
To curse the fail-safe song.