Two Tears With Names Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I had been busy with those things
that are so crucial to us all,
attending to them just as if
life itself would cease to be.

I always fret, because of fear
that, somehow I may not
be up to it, to slay the dragons
in the raging sea.

Harsh words escape at speed,
they travel so unerringly
and find her lovely ears,
ring tones that never fail.

A tiny tear had squeezed itself
out of her leading lacrimal, the right
left handed persons cry
first from the right, as if I didn't know.

I spotted it and focused angry eyes
and reddened face, then raised
the clean and proper digit, number two
to point to Nature's quirk as if to say:

How quaint and out of place this is,
grown women do not cry, I did
though silently present a case
a silly stance, a mood too far.

The tear had left her loving eye
and watching it asked me to cry,
it rolled, though small of body size
along her nose, then jumped a bit

to reach, with eagerness I guess
her lips, where tears should never be,
and where, in better times I had received
the treatment, full of passion all gone wild.

I stood my ground, as after all it was my place
to nip strange customs in the bud, for later times,
to let a precedent grow up to rule the fool
would cause great dissonance to all our lovely chimes.

A shadow flicked across her cheeks
as yet another tear had left her eye,
they met just as sheer gravity let go
and fell onto the neck and rolled from there

onto a a chest that has no equal to compare.
My voice gone hoarse, I felt it in my throat
I leaned much closer just to have a better look.
I would have hung myself with pleasure on this hook.

She carried much though it would never be a grudge,
'two tears in all, it was a tear for you and me,
they bear our names and may I be for us the judge
our tiny tears turn into kisses, you shall see.'

For C