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His Tears...
June 12, 2012
I watched as a stream of tears flushed his cherry brown cheeks.
Perfect wet crystal balls formed, then fell from underneath his eyelids as he blinked.
It was the moment, the moment that pain had taken its toll in the bitter sweet seconds of our conversation.
But with no hesitation, I was his one and only comfort.
I was the blanket that snuggled him so very tight till he could hardly breathe.
Yet the thin, black, and dark skinned blanket whose warmth allowed him to sleep with ease and without something, once called his tears.
© Hui Y., Potsdam, NY
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